The Protege
by Alpha Ori
Summary: Legolas makes his first visit to the Spring Festival at Imladris. A diplomatic and cultural exchange between Elven realms that proves to be one of the most memorable.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**

Legolas makes his first visit to the Spring Festival at Imladris. A diplomatic and cultural exchange between elven realms that proves to be one of the most memorable.

**Author's notes:** This is fiction and as such, I make no apologies for not adhering to canon. I manipulate places, names, facts and people as my stories may or may not dictate. Please enjoy.

**Title:** The Protege

Imladris

Elrond sat in his study, pouring over the hundreds of invitations that he had ordered issued to the spring festivities to be held in one week's time.

Elven lords from Lothlorien, and the Greenwood had been invited, not to mention the lord and lady of Lothrorien themselves, and the enigmatic but little known Sylvan Prince Legolas Thranduilion, who would be representing his father.

Rumour had it that there was something very special about said prince. A certain affinity with nature, his ability to sense it around him - his allies the trees and animals of the woodland. All this of course, intrigued the lord of Imladris, and indeed its entire household that was by now fairly ripe with rumour of the Sylvan forest lord, for that is how he had come to be known, although none in Imladris, or indeed in Lorien, had even met him. Mirkwood was far away, and had lived in self-imposed exile for many centuries, enought for the king to sire a child and see him to adulthood.

It was also rumoured that no other male elf could surpass his ethereal beauty and bodily strength, for he was a renowned warrior, skilled in archery, twin swords and the long sword, master of the three arts and said to be as yet unrivalled. Of course he had not crossed blades with Glorfindel yet, thought Elrond.

Whatever truth there was to be had of these rumours, the house of Elrond was fairly bustling with the preparations for the spring festival, and the arrival of such enigmatic guests.

He had far-spoken with Galadriel a few weeks back. She had warned Elrond that she had sensed a certain magic radiating from the Greenwood. Not a ring like the ones they themselves possessed, but something else, some natural magic that pulsed strong, but that she could not identify. She had confessed that it was with much anticipation that she would join the Imladris festivities, and see for herself if the forest prince had anything to do with what she had perceived, for it was not evil, – green magic perhaps.

Downstairs, Elladan lounged in the hall of fire, observing the preparations that had already been set into motion, albeit there were still three days before the festival was due to start, and which would last for another three days of feasting, dancing and general merry making. The elves were bursting with anticipation, and as he sat observing his surroundings, he listened to the incessant chatter going on around him…

"What shall you be donning Elaniel?"

"Ah, I have procured myself a new dress of the most stunning quality, perhaps enough to lure the Sylvan forest lord for a dance or two…"

"What know you of this son of Thranduil, Tandathion?"

"As much as any, I suppose, but if he is as fair as rumour would have him, I will endeavour to appear at my best, long has it been since I had a Sylvan between my sheets, or indeed between my legs…"

Elladan was amazed at the conjectures flying around his home, be they true or false, they certainly gave a certain perverted kind of thrill to the upcoming procedures, indeed it was all becoming fairly contagious, and he found himself wondering about this prince of the woods. Why the entirety of his beloved valley dwellers had fairly turned into debauched, prattling perverts.

As he continued to ponder, his brother joined him on the sofa, plopping himself down with little dignity.

"Brother, what think you of this ridiculous talk? I can barely believe it… I am sure they will be sorely let down when this Legolas thing makes his appearance…"

"Well Elrohir, we will just have to wait and see. Have you spoken to Findel or father on the matter?"

"Nay, nor will I. This all seems fairly ridiculous to my mind. If he is worthy, I will see it in his manner, his morale and disposition, but not by renown or beauty. 'Tis all very well and good, but not sufficient, I tell you."

"Aye, well brother, let us visit the study all the same, for I confess to be just a little curious on the matter."

"Come then, let us have your curiosity sated."

With that the two brothers left the hall of fire and the bustle of pre-festival preparations and to their father's study.

The lord of Imladris sat at the hearth, pouring over various scrolls that many of the visiting dignitaries due to arrive as of the morrow had sent ahead. Diplomatic issues, petitions and invitations to trade talks, apart from the festivities, this promised to be a busy and lucrative time for Imladris, and, he hoped, an unprecedented opportunity to re-establish diplomatic relations with the Greenwood. Thranduil he had not seen for nigh on two thousand five hundred years, when he had travelled to the woods to visit the ecstatic couple after the birth of their first and only son Legolas. Never had Elrond seen such a beautiful elfling. Bright golden hair and piercing blue eyes set in the sweetest face that Elbereth could kindle. Elrond was surprised not at the rumours of his beauty, for he very well imagined they would be true.

As Elrond sat pondering, Erestor and Glorfindel walked through the door, deep in their own discussion.

"… come now Glorfindel, let us not get carried away by all this drooling babble going around. All our citizens, and both genders are throwing wobblies at the prospect of this woodland sprite, it cannot be warranted, for all that is holy," he cried, throwing his arms in the air to accentuate his point.

"Ah, Erestor, but what if it is… surely you would be among those willing to give him a warm welcome to the last homely house…" replied his golden-haired friend, snickering audibly.

"Glorfindel, you know well my taste in lovers, and beauty is high on my list of priorities, but I refuse to take for granted these rumours, it is all getting a little too much, for the love of the Valar."

"Aye, perhaps you are right. However, if he is as good a warrior as they say, I eagerly await my turn on the practice field…"

Approaching the pensive Elrond, Glorfindel plopped himself down beside him and placed a light hand on this thigh.

"Elrond, what has caught your conjecture?"

"Well Findel, the same as all of Rivendell, the enigmatic forest lord, of course."

"Oh no, Elrond, I thought I would have some peace from this incessant chatter" chafed Erestor. "Is there no escape?", he hissed, throwing his robe-clad arms into the air yet again.

"It would seem not, but perhaps my slant is somewhat different from the rest."

"How so?" asked Erestor, leaning forward in his cushy chair to the left of his lord.

"Well, I would have you both see this under a different light. As you know, Greenwood, or Mirkwood, rears its young in the ways of war, as is its necessity, for many warriors perish every year I would wager, if there is any truth to the darkness that is said to avail the once Greenwood. Imagine, my friends, giant spiders, orks, uruks and other foul monstrosities, lurking the bowls of the forest, no protection other than what their warriors may provide, I would wager their culture is fairly built upon warfare and the way of the warrior. Fierce they must be, yet passionate in their aim to continue living in a land besieged by darkness. Tis a tantalizing mixture."

"Your description reminds me of Gondolin, Elrond, in more ways than one. Aye, I cannot fault your conjecture, if indeed this is the case of the Greenwood," said Glorfindel.

Funny you should mention that Fin, you know of his heritage?" enquired Elrond.

"Well, I know his father is of Sindarin origin, cousin to Celeborn, and his mother a Sindar" replied Glorfindel.

"Aye, go on, what about his grandparents?"

"Well there is Oropher of course, Sindarin himself, and…, now, his wife I can tell you nothing about."

Elrond held Glorfindel's eyes, with a certain look of triumph shining in his silver orbs.

Glorfindel realised there was something he should know and did not, and was certainly not about to wait to hear it.

"Enlighten me, by the Gods Elrond, what have I missed?"

Erestor sat, pensive, working his mind back to when he had met Oropher's lady wife. But he could recall neither name nor heritage. He could however recall that she had the colouring of the Sindarin, and had assumed that that was what she was.

"Was she not of the Sindar?" asked Erestor.

Elrond turned to Erestor, then back to Glorfindel.

"Her name was Adeniel, of the house of the Silver Tree."

Glorfindel started visibly and whipped his head round to meet Elrond's, golden braids whipping the side of his fair face.

"The Silver Tree? The silver… that was the house of Legaelair – Legolas, by the Gods he is a decendant of Legaelair?"

"Tis little known here, and much time has passed without relations with the Greenwood, but I do remember my first and only meeting with Adeniel, daughter of Legaelair, wife of Oropher and grandmother of Legolas.

"Sweet Lady, I shared many days of friendship with Legaelair, I wonder if he has been trained and instructed in the ways of Gondolin…"

"Well if there is any truth to his prowess in battle, this would not surprise me," interjected Erestor.

Pouring themselves a glass of dark red wine, the three sat back and stared into the flames, pondering on their conversation. Glorfindel however, was dredging up his memories of Gondolin, and his relationship with Legaelair, for although he had not mentioned it to his friends, they had been close, very close, and had it not been for the fall of their beloved city, and indeed of himself, they may very well have become even closer.

As if reading his mind, Erestor looked at Glorfindel and said, "Tell us then, of this Legaelair – what was he like?"

Had Erestor picked up on it? Perhaps he had, and if that were so, well he would not withhold the information from his two most intimate of friends.

Taking a sip from his chalice, he began to tell them of his extraordinary friendship, the nascent attraction they had felt for one another, before disaster struck, Glorfindel had died, and had lost track of his friend forever.

"Legaelair was one of rare beauty my friends, indeed he was veritably hunted by both male and female suitors. Although he never took a mate that I was aware of. He must have bonded and made his family after the fall of Gondolin."

"I would assume that would be Lindon, where many of the survivors finally settled," suggested Elrond.

An agitated knock sounded at the door, to which Elrond bade enter.

Cormion, Captain of the home guard of Imladris, stepped before the three lords in full battle gear.

"My lord Elrond, I bring ill tidings. A group of orcs has been spotted and fast approaching our borders. Though not a threat to us in Imladris, they could well be problematic to the incoming riders from Lothlorien and Greenwood."

Glorfindel stood abruptly at the news and further questioned one of his most veteran captains.

"Cormion, how many do you estimate in the group?"

"At least 100, general, possibly more."

"Elrond, who is due into Imladris within the next twenty-four hours?"

Elrond thought for a moment before replying, paling as he realised the answer to the question.

"Lothlorien are due tomorrow at first light, and are probably well past the threat, but Greenwood…they are due in by tomorrow before dusk"

"Elrond," insisted Glorfindel, "how many make up their party?"

Erestor interjected here, as he had been more involved in the accommodating of the guests.

"Apart from the festivities, Greenwood and Imladris are set to re-establish diplomatic and trade agreements, therefore, as you know, a cultural exchange will take place, they are well numbered. However, a good number are bards, musicians, dancers, diplomats and the like. Their total number is 50, 25 of which are warriors, including the Prince Legolas."

"25 warriors protecting 25 civilians against over 100 foul abominations are not good numbers… " mused Glorfindel.

"Thank you Cormion," said Elrond, "I will issue orders forthwith, take rest and repast and come again to me in one hour."

"Yes my lord" barked Cormion, and with that he was out the doorway in a swirl of cloth.

Glorfindel turned to Elrond, worry etched on his fine features.

"I will confer with the warriors, and come back to you within the hour with my suggestions."

"Go General, and come back with your council" Erestor, to me."

And with that, Glorfindel rushed out to meet the incoming scouts to ascertain the gravity of the situation, while Erestor and Elrond sat together, milling over their possible plans of action.

Mithrandir had been in Imladris since yesterday morning, and had spent the entire day sleeping, after which he bathed, ate his fill, and then slept again. Due to arrive this very evening was the group of rangers, with Arathorn as its leader, and his beautiful wife Gilraen. The lord and lady of Lothlorien with their group of thirty, including Haldir, their faithful marchwarden, would arrive in the early hours of the morning.

All would be safe, mused Elrond, save the impressive Greenwood caravan.

Another tap on the door revealed the twin sons of Elrond, poking their heads around the heavy wooden door they gingerly entered their father's haven. They found him perched on the edge of his seat besides the inseparable counsellor, sharing a glass of fine wine and running over various scrolls they had opened over the table.

Both twins shared a glance, silently asking themselves whether this was a good time to talk on trivial matters, and indeed, what may have happened to warrant the serious expressions on the two hunched over figures.

"Father?" they both ventured simultaneously.

"Enter my sons, joins us if you will. Erestor and I take council on an issue you should both be briefed on."

Suddenly concerned if their father's expression was anything to go by, they sat and poured themselves a conservative glass.

"A party of 100 orcs has been spotted close to our borders, and although they are not a threat to those already approaching our borders, the Greenwood party will most likely run into them, Glorfindel is scouting for news and will return within the hour to issue his orders."

Both twins shared a concerned glance, all talk of beautiful woodland warriors leaked out of their minds as they pondered not only the possible personal tragedy but the diplomatic consequences that a battle with orcs so close to Imladris could have on the nascent relationship with the Greenwood.

Elladan took the initiative, for he knew that he was also speaking for this brother, such was the bond they shared.

"Father, we will go and prepare, in case our general deems it necessary to intercept the group. We shall be back within the half hour."

Elrond saw the determined look of his sons and knew there was nothing to be done about them riding out. Oh, yes he could order them to stay, but at what cost? Their mother's plight, though long in the past, was still fresh in their minds, and he knew it always would be until, Elbereth permit, they were united in the undying lands.

"So be it, my sons."

You know, Erestor, we do not yet know what their objective is, it would seem strange that they would march so close to Imladris, surely they know they have no profit to gain from venturing so close to us."

"Aye, it worries me too, but let us wait for news from Glorfindel."

After taking council with his captains, Glorfindel made his way back to the Lords waiting in the study.

He found Elrond still in the company of Erestor, but Mithrandir had also joined them. Reclining in a winged reading chair and sucking on the end of his unlit pipe.

"Well general, what have you ascertained?" asked Elrond, without moving from his position in front of the hearth.

"It is as Cormion expostulated. We should send a group of fifty warriors to intercept the group which are approaching from the west, our advance should be from the East. With any luck, the Greenwood will come in from the north if they have had no need to alter the standard route. If you agree with my council Elrond, we should leave within the hour."

Elrond sat, still staring off into the healthy flames of the hearth, sparing a sidelong glance at Mithrandir, who was doing very much the same thing. No, he could not let anything happen to the northern entourage, too much relied on the success of this festival, and he was determined to unite the two realms both politically and commercially, no, it would not do for Thranduil's heir to suffer harm so close to his borders. It would be the end of any thoughts of elven brotherhood between Sindar, Sylvan and Noldor.

The twins entered the study, fully prepared to ride out. They turned their faces to their General, openly defying him to prohibit their participation.

Glorfindel caught the expression, then turned back to look at Elrond. A slight nod from him and Glorfindel turned back to his lieutenants, giving them an accepting nod.

"Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, go with the blessings of Imladris, protect our northern kin and our borders. Be victorious, and come back to me safe."

"It will be done, my lord," answered Glorfindel, bowing together with the twins to the remaining three people in the study, and with that they swiftly turned on their heels and walked to battle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: remember, there are adult themes with implied homosexuality in this story, so please do not read it if you are likely to be offended.**

**Ah, and thank you Maethoriel and gginsc for your kind reviews.**

**CHAPTER 2**

As they cantered through the countryside, Elladan turned to Glorfindel, trying to gauge the extent of his worry. Glorfindel wore a mercurial look that gave nothing away, and so Elladan was forced to pose the question.

"How long before we intercept the group?"

Elrohir was now leaning forward to better hear the general's answer.

"According to Cormion's report, I would venture around eight hours, although this depends on whether the Mirkwood is their prime objective, and indeed how fast both parties are moving, their direction, you know the story".

Meanwhile, within the ranks of the Imladris warriors, there was no little concern for the lives of their brethren. It was one thing to lose warriors to worthy battle, but bards, dancers, musicians, diplomats, they were innocent civilians – the loss of any life was a tragedy to the elves, but artists on their way to entertain others, there was something disturbing about the notion. And then of course, there was the enigmatic forest lord – the whole of Imladris was in an uproar at his impending arrival, all wanted to see him, dance with him, converse with him, and in some cases, win a few bets…motivation was high as they streaked through the forest with grim determination.

After six hours of arduous riding, Glorfindel put up his arm in a signal to stop his warriors. Swirling his mount around to face them, he called out to two of their numbers to scout ahead and discern the whereabouts of their dark quarry. Darithion and Eldithin were sent on the mission, with strict orders not to intercept.

As they galloped away, Glorfindel called to dismount for a brief rest and arms check. Battle was near.

The warriors dismounted and gathered close around their trusted Lord to take final council before the hostilities began.

"Remember, only twenty-five in their group are warriors, and although the other members may be able to defend themselves, the most likely strategy for their leader to employ would be to usher them towards the back and surround them with able warriors, whilst the front line attacks. If we meet them in this formation, the best tactic is for the archers to take to the trees behind the orcs but not directly, but slightly off to the sides, avoiding friendly fire – remember they will have a number of archers in the trees already. This will also allow our front line to charge in V formation and cut them down from the back. Once arrows have been used, or are no longer beneficial, archers will drop from the trees and help to defend the civilians to the back, is that understood?"

A thundering "aye" was shouted into the light breeze.

Two blonde scouts galloped through the wooded area, hell bent on reaching their lord with the news they carried. They had to be swift, 50 lives depended on them and they would not fail their Lord. Of course, being from Mirkwood they were no strangers to battling the dark forces, but they had certainly not expected to find trouble this close to the supposedly protected borders of Imladris. There, the Lore Master had an Elven ring, as Galadriel did, and used it to safeguard their frontier, unlike their lord King, who defended their forest through sheer force of will, their passion for their woodland forest and its restoration to its former glory as their driving force. Henian turned to his life-long friend and told him as much.

"I had not expected this, my friend", he said, as his hair whipped behind him in his mad dash.

"Neither had I", replied Galthidion, "it is just as well that our Lord had the sense to send out the scouts, he was obviously not as trusting as we have been on our approach to the valley. Everybody else was too busy dilly-dallying about beautiful Noldorin bodies and…"

"Alright, alright, stop right there, no need for the details, I have heard them all a thousand times on this woe-begotten journey."

"Aye, our friend has an unfair advantage Henian, I am sure the trees have just blatantly informed him of where, how many and when we will encounter them."

"If not where they are from, what they have supped and the clothes they wear", postulated Galthidion.

Despite their dire mission and need for haste, they both shared a fond exchange at the mention of their Lord, their childhood friend Legolas.

Finally, their entourage was in sight. The musicians, dancers, bards and diplomats had been huddled into the centre of the group, their 25 warriors surrounding them and by the looks of them, on full alert. As Henian and Galthidion approached their Lord at the head, they came to an abrupt halt and gave their urgent report.

"My Lord, 103 orcs approach from the east, well armed and apparently searching for quarry. On our current course, we will intercept within the hour."

Legolas turned to his captain, Lostion.

"Captain, do we have any alternative routes into the valley?"

"Nay my Lord, this close, all alternatives will lead us to the ridges of the valley without possibility of escape. We are on the only route possible and are but a half-day ride from Imladris itself. I see no other alternative than to intercept."

"So be it," said Legolas, turning back to the group. "Lostion, see to it that all are equipped with a weapon, warriors around the perimeter. Archers, dismount and into the trees to the north and south, stay close by, and on my command. We may need to use the Forest Chant, so be alert."

At the mention of the Forest Chant, all stood tall, straight and proud. They knew what this meant, and were proud to stand beside their Lord. Some had experienced the chant before, but it was rarely used and only in circumstances of dire need. They knew themselves outnumbered and in need of protecting civilians, but the Prince would use his magic if need be, albeit this could make him vulnerable, not to mention the fact that the Forest Chant would have a disturbing effect on those who had not witnessed it before, it always did, and likely always would.

Legolas knew that this planned course of action would draw attention to him and this he did not want. The festival was too important for him to be the cause of a diversion from the real and beneficial issues that could result from the event. He would attempt to brush it off as a natural ability alone, rather than for what it really was, he knew that in this, his people would say nothing, that is, unless it became public domain, which he knew that with time it would, but not yet... it was not yet time.

Henian turned to Legolas, and placed a warm hand on this forearm. "Your friends are with you my Lord, and here we will stay, come what may, as it has always been between us."

"And I with you Henian, Galthidion, let us get these festivities off to a good start!

And with that, they moved forward at a slow pace to allow the archers who had taken position in the trees to follow those on horseback without losing their formation. All were on full alert, but none were so tuned to nature than their Lord, who sat straight upon his white steed, eyes darting two and fro. 'You will not have us, you will not have the pride of Mirkwood, and you shall suffer for your presumption.' A light breeze was the only answer to his internal dialogue, the trees rustled their leaves, and Legolas had his answer, and his allies. He smiled.

Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir and their warriors had mounted once more, but proceeded at a cautious trot, no use running head long into the enemy. Time seemed to stretch as they awaited the impending arrival of the scouts once more to inform them of how long it would be before they were yet again bathing in the blood of their sworn enemies.

Glorfindel turned to Elladan and gave him a meaningful look. Elladan knew well what was on his mind, but chose not to make approaching the subject any easier for him, for both he and his brother had heard it too many times.

"Elladan, you know what I would say and I shall repeat it once again to you, and your brother. What you do in your own company I cannot dictate, but whilst under my orders, you will obey to the letter, you understand me well, do you not?"

"We do, my Lord", answered Elladan, knowing he spoke for his sibling. "But fear not, we will curb our passion to your command my Lord."

Turning to his brother Elrohir, they exchanged a knowing smile and continued the cautious pace towards battle, flanking Glorfindel and heading the group of warriors behind them.

Off into the distance, they heard a cry to the heavens, something was happening deep in the woods… Mirkwood had found their hunters, and yet they hunted...

After a light meal, tea was served in the Library, where Elrond sat together with Mithrandir and Erestor. About now, Glorfindel, together with the young princes, would be about to engage the orcs, and disturbingly near to the protected borders of Imladris. They would need long and detailed debates to establish the reasons as to why this should be and at this particular moment in time, for nothing had pointed at a spike in orc activity in that area.

The mood was one of deep ponderings and a rather tense calm, for none in the room counted less than four thousand Solar years.

Erestor, dark earthen eyes reflecting the flames at the hearth, turned slowly towards his companions, smiling serenely as his gaze caught that of Elrond. He knew the turmoil beneath the stoic exterior, and indeed shared it, his friendship with the Lore Master, Glorfindel, and the furiously rehearsing Lindir, together with the tutorship of the young lords, was his life, his meaningful and heartfelt task in his time in Middle Earth; he loved them all, each in their own way and he knew that all in the room, and the music room, reciprocated his emotions – they would be cared for, he would make sure of it. Surfacing from his reflections, he caught Mithrandir returning the same serene gaze he had turned on Elrond, 'had he read his thoughts?' 'Well, what of it, he was most welcome'.

It was Elrond who finally broke the silence, with an invitation to the Hall of Fire. A glass of wine and Lindir's Lyre would relax the atmosphere and help to bide the time until news was to be had. Fretting would serve no purpose.

The civilians were huddled well behind the defending line of ferocious woodland warriors, and in front of them, their forest lord, looking each one in the eye with a fey green glint to his eyes. Archers placed strategically in the trees surrounding them held their bow strings half-drawn, biceps beginning to strain under the pressure.

Now warfare is almost innate to the wood elves, and although they themselves were no warriors, they could not stand by and let their soldiers sacrifice themselves without helping in any way they could. They knew the traditions of their warriors, knew the Forest Chant, and so, as the artists and musicians they were, they reached for the mighty drums of the Greenwood, strapped to the sides of their wagon, and began to beat out their primal rhythm, as the forest chant began.

Lifting his head to the waning sun, Legolas let his eyes slip closed for a moment, taking in the harsh breathing of his warriors, waiting for his address, and the slow beat of the base drums beginning to sound from the back of the group. Slipping into a meditative state, falling into the rhythm of the ancient beat his subjects had struck up, he slowly lifted his arms from his sides, opened his brilliant emerald green eyes, and began his Forest Chant.

All need for a cautious pace had disappeared when the cry had gone out, and Imladris thundered through the forest, desperately spurred on by the sound of drums and chanting voices, although they could not make out the words. There was a deafening swish and swirl of leaf and acorn, branch and bough, a creaking of trunks and whistling of an unnatural wind swirling around, up and over the leafy tops of the trees. As they drew nearer, the disturbance grew more violent, branches blasted back from the onslaught, the eerie sound of nature stretched and stressed to its limit, as if the very trees screamed their ire, their defiance in the face of those that would blight them. And then, totally unexpectedly, orcs began to fly from the trees, straight into the Imladris warriors. There shock was apparent, but so was their panic – they were fleeing, looking over their shoulders as they continued to run, even if that took them into the arms of Glorfindel themselves, they did not seem to care.

The lords themselves had no need to intercept, there could be no more than ten of fifteen of them, and they were summarily cut down by the Noldorin warriors, not that it had taken any effort, for the orcs had almost run into the blades themselves.

What they would find beyond the barrier of trees ahead of them was worrying, but so was crossing the wooded line itself, for their commotion had died down, but had not ended.

Glorfindel held up his harm, shouting to his warriors to hold. He would wait a moment before ordering his troop to advance.

As the trees ceased their waning, Glorfindel lowered his arm and signalled the way forward. They warily navigated through the copse at a stealthy walk, all senses on alert, until finally, they emerged on the other side, into a glade...

Black hair flapped around the heads of the Noldorin warriors as they finally arrived at the site of the wood elves' stand, drawing up their horses harshly and dismounting in but a few seconds. Some stared in open shock at what they saw, as Glorfindel stared at the golden-haired elf with his back to him, facing the woodland warriors, hair undulating eerily in the unnatural breeze, for magic was at work here, of that he had no doubt. The elf held two short swords, one in each outstretched hand, blood dripping from their lethally sharp edges – they had arrived too late – the battle had been fought.

Black bodies littered the floor, many skewered with long, elegant arrows, others lay with limbs at odd angles, or heads turned at unnatural angles. Rusted blades, scimitars and other crude devices lay unheeded in the verdant grass.

He turned then, the Golden one, and looked straight into the surprised eyes of Glorfindel, who beheld the most beauteously exquisite face he had ever seen.

"Do not approach the forest, my Lords". And with that, he pulled his hood over his hair and face and turned away, towards his troops.

Glorfindel raised his arm and his voice, warning his warriors to give the trees a wide berth. They had allowed them to pass through, but there was no use in tempting fate. Turning back to the Mirkwood caravan, he saw no astonishment on their faces, only reverence – and exhaustion.

As he turned to his own, Glorfindel took in the shock upon his warriors' faces, but could not afford them to lose themselves in the recounting of what they had witnessed, however extraordinary it had been. There could well be more foul creatures lurking around, and time was of the essence, they had to get back to the safety of Imladris, and quickly.

Leaving the command to his two young lords, he approached the Mirkwood line with the intent of establishing contact with their commander and to issue orders to make haste to Imladris.

As he drew near, he began to understand that the hooded elf must be their commander, who was kneeling down beside a fallen warrior who was being tended to by another elf. Slowly reaching out his hand, he smoothed it down the face of the fallen warrior, whose eyes had begun to droop.

"Galthidion, peace my friend. Hold unto me and soon you will find comfort. How fare you my friend?"

"Legolas, you are well? I saw you set upon, you will not lie to me."

"Thidion, do not change the subject, answer the question."

"I hurt, I will admit, but I will be well, you will not be rid of me thus, for your lord father would kill me."

Having witnessed the exchange, Glorfindel approached and called out to the commander, who he now knew was Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, the object of such rumour even now taking place within and without the halls of Elrond. 'My word they would not be disappointed.' He drank in the features of this singular elf, and by the gods he had never seen such beauty in a male elf, not even Legaelair, and yet he was still hooded, half obscured by the failing light. Drawn to the eyes, he noted they were now a bright, dazzling blue, so bright that a thin haze seemed to hang about them, as if light were being refracted, he thought. It was the most spellbinding sight he had ever seen. He knew what he had seen before, green eyes. Moving down the body, he realized this elf was tall, and particularly well-muscled. Most elves were willowy, although lithe, but this elf was astoundingly well-proportioned. Powerful thigh muscles could be seen beneath the tight hugging leggings the elf wore. Aye, this one was an extraordinary warrior, no doubt of that, for Glorfindel had more experience than most on the subject. Moving his eyes back up, he noticed the lax stance of the elf's right arm, and a cut across his left cheek that oozed blood in a slow trickle down the front of his tunic, bruising already showing itself.

"Commander?"

Slowly turning, Legolas met the eyes of he who had called to him. Legolas stood for a moment, allowing himself a few brief moments to take in the vision before him. This elf was special, he knew. He looked into the depths of his blue eyes and saw age, wisdom, curiosity, experience, death … and so many other things he did not now have time to ponder.

"Commander. We thank you for your assistance, I am Legolas Thranduilion."

"Welcome to Imladris, my Prince. I am Glorfindel of Imladris."

Now it was Legolas' turn to be taken aback, for much had he heard of Glorfindel of the house of the Golden Flower, for his father's mother had been of Gondolin, and he had grown up on his grandmother's stories of her home, and of Glorfindel the Balrog slayer, saviour and champion of their people. And although Legolas's station was now technically higher than that of Glorfindel's, he had once been a lord of his own house, and now a legendary warrior. But more than this, he deeply respected Glorfindel, if the tales he had heard were true. And so he could think of nothing else to do but bestow upon him the greetings of prince to prince, equal to equal.

Legolas bowed deeply, sweeping his left arm out to the side. "I am deeply honoured to meet you my lord."

Glorfindel, somewhat taken aback by the reverence shown to him, replied in turn.

"Come, my prince. Let us make haste to Imladris and see to the comfort of our people. Come."

And with that, Glorfindel turned back to his warriors, urging them upon their steeds and forming a protective shield around the Mirkwood elves, the image of Legolas' half-hidden face firmly imprinted on his mind.

Just as Glorfindel was about to hold up his arm in a signal to set forth, Legolas cantered ahead of them and approached the tree line.

Gently placing the palm of his left hand against the bark of a particularly large oak, he closed his eyes and laid the side of his face over the hand touching the bark. Thus he stayed for a few moments before stepping back and nodding. Turning back around he approached his steed and mounted, accepting Galthidion up in front of him. He was aware of the stares he was receiving, and he was used to it, however it always made him uncomfortable. Humble as he was, he wished for nothing more than to be treated as the warrior he was.

Back in Imladris, Elrond sat together with Erestor and Mithrandir, Galadriel and Celeborn who had arrived at the lunch hour. They had bathed, rested and eaten and were now sharing a conversation on the objectives and desired outcomes of the festival. Not half an hour passed, when Galadriel suddenly detatched herself from the conversation, sitting bolt upright in her chair as she gazed out into the gardens and the land beyond. Elrond knew she was sensing something, and indeed so was he, although he could not place exactly what he was feeling. Finally, Galadriel turned her piercing blue eyes on Elrond and Mithrandir.

"Did you feel it?"

"I felt something, but I would be loathe to say exactly what", added Elrond, while Mithrandir merely nodded.

"The forest lord comes," she stated flatly. " I was right thus far - about what I sensed in the Greenwood - it is here, it is somehow tied to him."

"How do you know this?" enquired Erestor, leaning forward at the intriguing news, wondering whether there was, after all, some truth in what he had termed as 'complete piffle', or indeed, other less courteous discriptives.

"I felt the anger of the trees. Their anger called out to me, they have aided their warriors, they have dealt death at the behest of him."

"He can command the trees?"

"So it would seem - there is a Valar at work here, I would wager, what say you, Maia?"

"Well, I would not wager on it, but you may be right, and if you are, then my question is, who would it be and for what purpose? For I have no intelligence on the matter at all, and it may well be a natural, rather than bestowed ability."

"Well, then. Glorfindel can tell us more when he arrives," said Elrond, bringing them all out of the mystically contemplative mood they had all fallen into. All superficial banter about the forest lord had turned into something much more transcendental.

With little over an hour left of riding, Elladan and Elrohir decided enough was enough, and began their interrogation of their tutor, for the forest prince had drawn his cloak about him and had pulled up the ample hood, and as if this was not enough he was surrounded by his faithful warriors, flanking him on both sides. They had not seen Legolas face to face as Glorfindel had, they wanted some advance intelligence before arriving in Imladris.

"Glorfindel, tell us. Are the rumours true? Is he as beautiful as they say? We did not get a good look at him, and now with his hood up, we have not sated our curiosity."

"Oh, I would say the rumours are not true at all. None have come anywhere close to describing what I have just beheld."

"What do you mean? Is he in fact revolting, abhorrent and deformed? Ha! What a sledgehammer, that will teach them to heed petty gossip, I knew it!" said Elrohir triumphantly.

"Well, you shall soon see. For the moment, suffice it to say that he is a good leader and is concerned for his people. A good friend has taken serious hurt, and they also seem to be tired beyond what I would expect after just one battle. Nay, I would say they have had a difficult journey, all in all. Let us see to their comfort first, and then we may speculate over a well-earned glass of red, I for one would like to know what happened in that glade before we arrived."

Meanwhile, Glorfindel turned his head to the cloaked and hooded figure of the leader of the Mirkwood elves. His posture had sagged a little in the saddle, and his right arm still stood at an awkward posture, although his left still gently cradled his insensate friend before him. Yes he was wounded and was trying to hide it. He would let him, for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: remember, there are adult themes with implied homosexuality in this story, so please do not read it if you are likely to be offended.**

**Ah, and thank you Maethoriel, Nebelkind and Ziggy3 for your kind reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.**

CHAPTER 3

Imladris was a bubbling cauldron of activity as the Mirkwood entourage entered the valley – the winding road which lead into the main courtyard was lined with torches, which had been lit to better cater for the many elves that would soon be filing into Imladris. They had been alerted to the probability that they would have engaged in battle, and to expect casualties. Rooms had been prepared, the healers were on alert, beds and herbs had been prepared, and the kitchens had been working overtime to prepare specific foods, such as broths, teas and light fare. Imladris was, after all, the Last Homely House, and especially renowned for its healing wing. Erestor particularly, had been frantically overseeing the arrangements, which, although already under control, still needed some final touches – they may be in an emergency situation, but that was no excuse for slagging – they had a reputation to maintain after all.

Amongst the hustle and bustle in the courtyard, there were healers in their long blue or white tunics, ready with litters and first-aid kits, stable boys ready to take weary beasts to a well-earned brush down and rest, and of course, Elrond, Erestor, Celeborn and Galadriel, who stood at the steps of the main entrance to the halls, with Haldir standing proudly behind his lord and lady, while Mithrandir stood towards the back, out of sight of the incoming group, he would observe from a distance.

Arathorn, his beautiful bride Gilraen and their small group of Dunedain had also arrived not six hours previously, and were still in the process of bathing, eating and resting, but this did not stop many of them from venturing out onto their balconies to take in the arrival of the warriors and the Greenwood entourage. They hadn't been in Imladris long, but it was long enough to hear all the gossip, rumours and other frankly outrageously fantastical stories that were flying about.

"They approach", murmured Galadriel flatly as she spied the first riders coming into view, eerily illuminated by the orange incandescence of the torches.

And sure enough, the host of near one hundred elves trotted into the ample courtyard of the Last Homely House. Elrond espied Glorfindel, sitting proudly atop Asfaloth, obviously having taken no injuries, but a battle had surely taken place, for the warriors that followed him were a picture of grime and exhaustion. It was a three week trek from the Greenwood in the best of cases, but it was a rather arduous journey, which many ups and downs, flats, valleys, mountains, hills, rivers and lakes, not to mention the other threats that plagued the entire way into the woods, especially towards its southern tip – add to that a run-in with orcs, well, this was the logical result.

Glorfindel chanced a glance at the prince riding to his right. He noted the suddenly erect and proud stance he had adopted. He smiled obligingly at the obvious effort he was making. He understood his reasons, if he were in a similar situation himself, he would wish to appear strong and commanding, even if he didn't feel that way. It was a question of making that all-so-important first impression, and of course, keeping up the morale of the people – they needed their leader now. Neither would he want any attention lavished on himself, but rather on his needy people. Glorfindel would indulge him, but vowed that once he had done his duty to his people, he would see to it that Legolas received the attention he so obviously needed, and Glorfindel so wanted to give. He also noted that Legolas had not lowered his hood as protocol would dictate; again, this was hardly surprising. He smiled then, at how he had mislead his lieutenants, there was some fun to be had later on, if not a little vengeance.

But then he wondered why he was assuming so many good things about this one. He had only shared a few lines with him, certainly not enough to know him in any way, and yet he could not bring himself to think badly of him, or indeed to even doubt him. That was a dangerous thing, especially for one in his position of responsibility. He would need to control himself and maintain a healthy dose of positive scepticism, at least until he was convinced of his good intentions.

Coming to a halt, the warriors began to slide off their mounts in varying degrees of elegance, while the civilians towards the back jumped down eagerly, well-pleased to be finally at their destination, but also equally eager to see to the welfare of their brethren who had so adeptly seen to their security at their own cost, not once but thrice, they owed them deference, as their culture dictated.

The Imladris population also hastened forward towards them, some taking the reins of their steeds, others with litters to usher off those who had been wounded, one of them being Galdithion. Legolas carefully handed him down to a waiting healer, who eased him onto a litter he had placed at the foot of Legolas's steed. As the healer was placing the injured elf comfortably, Legolas, still hooded, caught his forearm and looked him squarely in the eyes.

"Take the best care of Galdithion, good healer, for he is a brave and courageous warrior, more he is my dear friend."

Legolas was unsure as to the status a warrior may or may not have here, he had read all there was on the ways of the Noldor, but the information was just too outdated to be sure. In the Greenwood, they were dispensed with the deference given to a spiritual leader; they were recognized as protectors, elves that would give their lives to save their brothers and sisters, they were the epitome of benevolence and self-discipline.

The healer took in the slight accent and the earnest tone of the elf that had snagged his sleeve, but – his eyes, a bright green, so green they let off a hazy mist that was so compelling he found himself staring, ensnared by the effect. Quickly pulling himself together, he rallied his fellow healer to help him with the stretcher into the healing wing, sparing a brief nod in the direction of the green-eyed elf, wondering if the hooded figure could be Him.

Legolas decided it was nigh time to get from his own steed and greet the Lords that waited at the foot of the steps. He had never met any of them, but logic dictated that the dark haired elf in the centre of the small group must be Lord Elrond, and if that were so, the other dark-haired Noldo at his right must be the chief advisor Erestor. To Elrond's left would be the lady Galadriel, and to her right, the Lord Celeborn, cousin to his father.

Stealing himself he slipped from his steed in a manner less elegant than he would have liked, for his muscles screamed at him to rest.

Straightening his posture, he approached the four lords, stopping in front of he whom he assumed was the lord of the house.

Pulling his hood from his head for the first time since entering the protected valley, he looked straight into the eyes of the dark elf and waited for confirmation.

"Welcome to Imladris Legolas Thranduilion"

"Well met, Lord Elrond of Imladris," said Legolas, bowing low to the lord.

Later, Elrond would ask himself how he had managed to sound so, well, professional in is protocolarian welcome to the Prince, for his insides had twinged painfully at the first sight of the elf that stood in front of him. The first coherent thought that came to his mind was 'fey', for the elf had flipped back his hood, revealing a mass of golden hair that was much longer than that of a normal elf, even though it was heavily braided at the top and sides. Bright red fluid oozed down one soft pale cheek, which was cut and bruising. The eyes that looked back at him were blue, a blue so intense they let off an ethereal glow around them. Chiselled features, a long straight nose and the most delectable lips, all this crowning an obviously war-honed body which was tall and muscled, although sadly obscured by his travel garb. How had he managed to get the words out so blithely? His body had tensed of its own accord, especially his groin, which was now informing him that it wanted action, now.

Snapping out of his reverie, he turned to the Lord and Lady of the wood, and promptly introduced them.

Legolas turned his attention to them, smiling at Celeborn as he recognized the kinship with his father's house. They bowed formally to each other, but then Celeborn held out his forearms to give the warrior salute. Legolas held out only his left arm, ending in a rather awkward greeting, which he silently apologized for with a subtle smile. Moving a little to the right, Legolas came to stand in front of Galadriel.

"Prince Legolas, 'tis a pleasure to finally meet the son of Thranduil."

As she uttered the words, she looked deeply into the misty blue depths. Letting herself sink further inside them, she pondered deeply on what she saw, but as she tried to speak privately into his mind, she found that she could not. He was blocking her! Well that was almost a first, however since she first looked into his eyes, she realised that this one was indeed, touched by the Valar – there was no mistaking that light. To what extent or purpose, she could not guess, but she would make it her business to find out. Steeling a peak at her husband, she found him as blithe as ever in his greeting, but she, more than most, knew him well enough to note the rigid stance, the eyes that stood slightly more open and rounded than usual, a hidden upward slant to his lips.

Legolas turned his attention back to the lord of the house.

"Lord Elrond, with your permission, the road has been long and arduous; I would see that my warriors are comfortable and that my people are well settled."

"Of course, my prince, I shall be in the healing wing of the house, should you require me, I understand one of your warriors took a serious blow?"

With this, Elrond steered Legolas towards the healing wing, while Legolas filled him in on Galdithion's condition, pulling his hood back up to cover his head.

The other lords, still standing upon the steps, turned to leave the courtyard, catching each others' eyes as they did so – it was just a fleeting contact of the eye, but that said so much, only they had seen his face without the hood, together with Glorfindel, and my word, the Prince did not disappoint.

Legolas stepped into a room filled with candles, which cast a warm and well-illuminated glow around the healing ward. The smell of herbs and potions assaulted his fine sense of smell. Many healers were moving around the room purposefully, retrieving potions, ointments, bandages, water and the likes. There were four beds on either side of the room, with a corridor down the middle and a large open window at its end - so different and yet so alike to the healing sector of his homeland. The same hustle and bustle, the smells, the clinking of glass and metal, the occasional groan or whimper, and yet here, Elrond seemed to have taken the concept to new heights. The healers wore uniforms, some in long blue tunics, while others donned long white ones – he wondered at the difference. There was much to be learned here, he would see that Maeron spent as much time as possible here.

The hooded figure moved towards the bed placed near an open balcony, and stooped down to look into the eyes of his friend, who now seemed to be sleeping. He turned questioning eyes to the attentive healer in white on the other side of his friend.

"He will recover, my lord, somewhat sore and tired, but fear not for his life."

"What is your name, healer? Inquired Legolas.

"Nestaron Balentar, my lord."

"You have my gratitude, Healer Balentar." And with that he moved over to another bed where a young warrior was being divested of his tunic, much to the young one's protests.

"Benogelir, why do you protest, warrior?

Though the young elf could not see Legolas under his hood, his voice he knew well.

"My Prince, 'tis nothing, a mere scratch that does not merit the attention of Imladris' fine healers."

"If they are such fine healers, Benogelir then you will agree with me that if they deem it is necessary, then it must indeed be so. Besides, you do deserve the attention you receive, even if it were indeed a mere scratch, which it is not. You fought bravely and you have my thanks. However, in return, you will let these fine healers do their job."

Benogelir struggled to stand, which he eventually managed, brushing off the hands that attempted to stop him. He bowed low to his prince. "My prince, fighting by your side would make the poorest of amateurs into the greatest of Elven warriors."

Legolas smiled warmly, placing his hand over the young warrior's shoulder.

"Heal my friend; I will see you on the morrow."

Nodding to the healer, he moved on yet again. Spotting Erestor in the background talking to various elves, he approached and smiled as he neared the dark, exotic advisor.

"My Lord, have my people been allotted their living quarters?"

"We are seeing to it my Prince, most have now been accommodated."

"Can I be of assistance, are there any difficulties?"

"Nay, nay Lord Legolas, please, take your rest, you surely deserve it."

Rest, aye when was the last time he had truly allowed himself to rest? The continuous orc and spider battles in the forest, the long journey towards the festival, so many times had they been waylaid, always on their highest alert, taking double shifts to increase security… by the Valar, a bath and a bed sounded like heaven on Arda right now, and if there were some wine, food...

As if his thoughts had been heard, Elrond approached him and steered him into a quieter wing of the house by the elbow.

"Are you satisfied that Galdithion with live, and that your people are being made comfortable?"

"Aye my Lord, and I thank you for it."

"Tis my pleasure, Prince. Now, as master healer of Imladris, you must let me accompany you to your quarters."

"Of course".

"Lord Legolas", began Elrond, "you are in the Last Homely House. Healing is our expertise, and let me tell you that healing is not only about closing the flesh and staunching the flow of blood. It is about comfort, about restoring strength of body and mind, and you my Prince, are in sore need of both. Besides, I heard your words to your loyal warrior, wise words which I ask you to heed now."

"I would not bother you with this," he said, holding up his right arm. "It is only superficial my Lord."

"I understand. Nevertheless, indulge me?"

Legolas glanced at Elrond and saw the sincerity in what he had said, and he was interested in what had been said about healing being about more than closing the flesh, perhaps he would allow himself to be indulged, and why not? He hadn't realized that Imladris would have a similar tradition to the Sylvans of his forest home and was intrigued at the possibilities.

Glorfindel appeared then, falling in with his friend. "Glorfindel, is everything seen to?"

"Aye my Lord, all are settled and are being tended to. May I be of assistance?."

"Come Glorfindel, let us accompany Prince Legolas to his suite."

With that, Elrond steered the weary prince into the guest chambers that had been assigned to him, opening the door for Legolas to step through. Just then, Glorfindel caught sight of two dark figures in the corridor, swirling around to leave, not unlike two children caught red-handed but trying to look casual about it..., chuckling to himself, he hastened to his companions, wondering what the twins must be thinking now!

Elrond followed the prince into the bathing room with the intention of checking that the bath had been drawn and that Legolas understood what was to happen tomorrow, however, he was rendered mute at the sight before him, for there stood the paradigm of male Elven physique - the most compelling figure Elrond had ever been privileged to see. Legolas was young, according to his reckoning, but even one of his age who engaged in physical training on a daily basis would not possess such a defined body. This was no slender, sinewy archer – this was a perfectly balanced, sculptured body of the utmost beauty, and he was enthralled. Glorfindel was thinking much along the same lines, having arrived on the scene scant seconds after the master, but was not quite so elegant in his internal dialogue, the only adjective coming to him was "magnificent", he could conjure no other descriptive, as he stood there staring at the now free mane of golden liquid, the tips of which rested at the apex of a perfectly formed behind.

And then he noticed the bracelet sitting high on his bicep. Gold and mithril swirls in forest patterns with tiny emeralds, sapphires and amethysts inset into the metal. It was a beautiful piece, perhaps too beautiful to wear on a daily basis, which led him to believe that this bracelet had some significance, perhaps a symbol of station.

Elrond, finally finding his tongue, managed to grind out his next sentence. "I see you are pulled to the waters, but first, please allow me to take a look at that arm. – may I?" asked Elrond as he pointed to Legolas' right arm.

"Of course."

As he took the forearm in his hands, three elves glided through the door, bearing bowls, towels and a tray laden with jars, bottles, soaps and oils. The only male wore a cloth bag which hung from his side.

"Good eve my lords. I am Maeron, healer of the royal house of the Greenwood. I would know of my prince's condition, I did not realise he was wounded," said the healer as he approached his lord.

Elrond nodded to the newcomers, cursing them silently for their untimely arrival, as he continued to prod the nasty cut he found there. It didn't look serious, painful, perhaps. He knew that he should not continue to heal the prince, his own people were here to claim him as their own, and he would not stand in their way, as much as he wanted to.

"Then we leave you in good hands, Prince Legolas. Tomorrow is a day of rest and healing for all, so please, sleep, rest and explore my home if you should be so inclined." Smiling kindly to the fey creature, who thanked him in return, he bowed then, and floated from the room, not before spying Glorfindel, still standing in the corner, wearing the oddest of looks – for his head was almost imperceptibly tilted to one side, as if trying to understand something. He was brought back to the present by the figure of Elrond passing in front of him, breaking his inner reflexions. He had much to think on, for his own actions and thoughts had surprised him, and he liked it not.

Back in Elrond's chambers, the three friends sat down and shared a glass of wine, mulling over the hectic and surprising events of the last few hours.

"Beautiful is he not? I do not wonder that he kept his hood up on his arrival, he undoubtedly knows the effect he has on others, and I daresay I saw a little irritation on his face," said Elrond.

"Aye," replied Erestor. "I noticed as well. It must be annoying to not be able to go unnoticed. However, you do have the upper hand, curse you two, I only saw his face."

"That you did," said Elrond, taking a sip of wine.

"Well, tell me!"

"Peace!" chuckled Elrond, "you will do yourself a mischief!"

"Well? I am waiting, Elrond."

"Ai, put him out of his misery, Elrond!" chuckled Glorfindel.

"Now why would I do that? Mayhap I should play the game you play with my sons, Balrog-slayer!"

"Ha! You noticed!"

"Quite"

"And still they say nothing," groused Erestor, throwing his arms in the air. "You are both traitors, and I shall have my revenge, make no mistake!" he complained, as he took a gulp of the ruby liquid now sitting at the bottom of his cup.

Meanwhile, Glorfindel clutched his goblet close to his chest as he stared into the fire at the hearth, the glow reminding him of the bright-eyed woodland beauty not three doors away. His thoughts began to wonder, as both Elrond and Erestor watched him. It was strange that Glorfindel had not noticed he was being observed, and so they could do nothing more than look at each other knowingly, and smile.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Dawn, and the promise of a splendid spring day brought a whirlwind of activity in the lower quarters of the Last Homely House. Upstairs however, things were slower to get under way. Its occupants returned to consciousness slowly, opening their eyes and ears to the calm and beauty of Imladris.

Legolas stirred, turning his face to the open window and sensing the sun and a light breeze on his face. He had been comforted by his people last night and felt marvellously relaxed and renewed, apart from the dull throb in his forearm. His cheek, still a little tender, had healed well, leaving only a slight bruise in its place.

He sat up and realised he was alone. Stretching his back, he pulled his legs over the side of the bed and began to rise. He was naked, as he usually was when sleeping, but when visiting he would normally don a shirt or loose sleeping pants. Ah well, good job nobody had thought to visit him yet.

He padded into the bathing area and began his daily ablutions, slipping into a pair of loose-fitting linen trousers once he had finished. It had been dictated that today would be for rest and relaxation, and Legolas would not disappoint. He wished to walk around the estate, familiarize himself with the house and its lands, visit the exhibition areas he knew existed, which contained articles dating way back to bygone ages, paintings, artefacts and weapons of warfare. He would visit the stables and the library, and perhaps go into the warrior's compound and observe their activities. He was here to learn, his father had made that very clear, and this meant immersing himself in the every-day routines of the predominantly Noldorin elves that resided here. Of course, Thranduil had also made other things clear, such as observing strict protocol on formal occasions, and achieving as many export contracts for their woodland produce as he could. No small task, but one that would be most rewarding on a personal and political level. His father had every faith in him, he knew, but that did not lighten the burden. As part of his obligatory luggage, was his princely crown and gown, but the king had also insisted he took the attire for his other, higher status, in the event that he should be recognized in that capacity, although Legolas had already insisted that now was not the time.

Just then, a light knock at his door had him donning his brown silk overgown.

"Come", he called.

A maid stood in the open doorway, mouth slightly open as she collected herself to carry out her assigned task.

"My Lord, do you wish to break your fast in your rooms, sir?

"That would be very agreeable, my lady." Replied Legolas.

He was glad he was not required to dress and eat in the dining hall. There would be plenty of time for protocol, right now, he was hungry, and frankly too comfortable and relaxed to bother with minding exquisite manners.

"Very well, my Lord. Any special request for the kitchen, sir?"

"No, my lady. I will partake of what the kitchen has to offer. You have my thanks."

"Of course, Prince. 'Tis my pleasure to serve you." She said then, a furious blush rising up her face from her neck, mortified to have actually said that and with the worst possible intentions one could deduce. She hurriedly curtsied and rushed to the kitchens, she had a report to give and a bet to collect!

After combing and braiding his hair informally, he dressed in brown suede trousers and a white shirt, leaving the first three clasps undone.

Still bare-footed, he moved over to the doors that lead out onto a large balcony and opened them wide, moving further out until he reached the railing, grasping it in his strong hands. The view from here was spectacular. Below, a portion of the courtyard could be seen, but then spanned out into the gardens immediately surrounding it. After this, trees and allotments where some kind of produce was obviously being cultivated. Further into the horizon, were the woods that surrounded the valley, and finally, the rocky cliffs, beyond which the multiple waterfalls raged.

He breathed in the sweet scent of nature, closed his eyes, and called out to it in greeting. All was well, there was no evil afoot and they were content, as they sang out their greetings to he who protected them.

"Is all well in fair Imladris this morning, young prince?"

Startled by the courteous interruption, he opened his eyes and turned his head to the right, where he found a tall, grey-clad man, leaning on a gnarled staff, looking back at him from the neighbouring balcony.

Mithrandir was momentarily startled by the brilliant green irises. He had not meant to startle the creature, but could think of no other way to break the silence than to comment on what he had sensed. He had wanted to catch the prince alone since he had arrived the previous evening, but had not had the chance.

After a few seconds, Legolas broke his silence.

"Istar?"

Momentarily taken aback by the elf's astuteness, he replied with a simple nod of his head.

"You are the protégé of Manwe, are you not?"

"Aye, that is so, young prince. And you? Who is your protector? For you have one, do you not?"

Now it was Legolas' turn to be taken aback. He had not counted on the presence of a Maia, he would, of course, see right through him, well almost, perhaps.

"I am not inclined to speak of it at present, I hope you will forgive my impertinence, my lord."

"Of course, well I am sure you have your reasons, know only that as one protégé to another, come to me if you need the help of an old man."

Legolas smiled at the wizard who he had now decided was most kindly, and if he could indeed, keep Legolas' secret until such time he deemed it necessary to speak, then the Maia would be a very good ally indeed.

"That I will, eh..?"

"Oh, Mithrandir, Olorin, Gandalf, Stormcrow..."

"Alright, my friend," chuckled Legolas. "I think I understand!"

"Well-met then, young prince."

"Indeed my friend, very well met."

And with that, Mithrandir turned and entered his rooms.

So it was true, he had not denied it. He was a protégé, just as he himself was. Indeed Galadriel had been right, but that still left them with the question of who his protector was, and even more importantly, what his purpose was. For all protégés were chosen with a purpose, a task to perform or a destiny to fulfil. To this, he still had no answer, but he had a report to give, and a bet to claim.

Legolas had been called in from the balcony by another knock at the door, which revealed a different maid carrying a tray laden with enticing fare. However, she faltered as Legolas drew near with the intention of relieving her of the burden. He caught the tray just in time before it could crash to the floor. Apologizing profusely, she curtsied and dashed from the room, covering her quivering lips with a dainty hand, she had a new dress to claim!

As Legolas made swift work of his breakfast in the privacy of his chambers, downstairs in the main hall, the lords of Imladris, together with their advisors, chief military leaders and friends, were having breakfast together. There was an air of anticipation in the air, and the weather was beautiful, what a day this promised to be!

For Elrohir and Elladan, they were on a mission. They had heard the reports they had 'requested' and were even now, plotting subtle revenge on their general for having misled them. Their other mission was to make the acquaintance of the prince, if that is, they could get him alone. And then of course, Elrohir had a dress to deliver...

Elrond sat at the head of the table as usual, flanked by Erestor and Glorfindel, who were quietly talking together. During a lull in the conversation, they began to pick up on a conversation taking place further down the table.

"And where would the fair prince be?" huffed a warrior sitting further down the table. "Will he not grace us with his presence this morn?" He added, inspiring subtle chuckles from his fellow warriors he sat with.

Elrohir looked at the warrior, Melven was it? He had picked up a subtle disdain in the warrior's tone. But before he could say anything, Gorfindel began to speak.

"He is resting, Melven. You will meet him tomorrow no doubt."

"Twas only a skirmish with orcs, my lord. Perhaps he is not accustomed."

Elrond knew this kind of conflict would arise, although most of his citizens were favourably inclined to this attempt at brotherhood with the Greenwood, some of the older warriors would undoubtedly reject the supposed superiority of the woodland warriors, and specifically the prince. He knew that tact was the best option right now, but that did not mean he would take impertinence from a lieutenant.

"Melven, where were you during the "skirmish"?. Inquired Elrond.

"I brought up the rear guard, my lord, protecting our troops at the back."

"And how many orcs would you say were involved in the 'skirmish'?"

"Oh I would say around forty at the most, my Lord."

At this, Glorfindel raised his eyebrows. "No wonder you call it a skirmish, Melven, but I would advise you to be more observant of the battles in which you participate, one of the reasons why you are assigned the rear guard my friend."

Elladan and Elrohir looked to the ground, for they felt embarrassed for their fellow warrior. They knew him, although not well. A good warrior, but very set in his ways, he always had difficulty accepting orders from those younger or less experienced than himself.

Elrond continued. "Melven, we do not call a charge of one hundred orcs a skirmish, not in Imladris, 'tis called a battle," he instructed, emphasising the last word and cocking his head to the side.

"Melven", Glorfindel continued." I will have no bad feelings between my warriors and those of the Greenwood. Do I make myself clear on this lieutenant?"

Melven looked to his general, tipped his head and replied.

"You do my lord. But with all due respect, I would have the woodland warriors earn our respect, rather than for us to take it for granted."

"That is for you to decide Melven, I require only that you show due respect for a prince and his people."

With that, Melven nodded to his superior, and turned his attention once more to his fellow warriors, low snickers could be heard from the group as Melven reluctantly stabbed at a sausage on his plate.

"We will have problems with him before the end," marked Erestor. "He needs to learn his lesson and I believe he will be forced to learn it the hard way."

"Then let it be so, for I would have him learn it. He is an able warrior," replied Glorfindel.

Talk continued well into the morning until finally, Elrond rose and bid good morn those in the hall, making his way to the healing wing. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and many preparations were to be made for the Spring Equinox Festival and opening ceremony to the gathering.

...

Mithrandir wandered down the corridors of the upper floors of the house. He had, originally, intended to seek out Galadriel and inform her of his findings so far. However, he was for some reason, compelled to respect the forest prince's wishes of not disclosing his status as a protégé. He had said the time was not right, and Mithrandir just happened to agree with that. This festival was of the utmost importance – Thranduil would come out of his self-imposed exile, the two realms, and, he hoped, Lothlorien, would be allies, joining against he who would bring doom to Middle Earth. Indeed he perceived that this event was somehow a precursor to the task he had been assigned, fundamental to his purpose in Arda. And so he took the ample staircase down into the courtyard and the gardens beyond, taking out his pipe from his robe pocket as he walked.

With breakfast finished, Glorfindel found himself with nothing to do. He had overseen everything, his only remaining job would be to visit the barracks later in the day. He could think of many things to do with his rare free time, and all of them included the enigmatic forest warrior, Legolas. Dare he seek him out and offer him a guided tour of Imladris? Well he was Glorfindel, damn it all, of course he dared. A determined look invaded his strong face, his jaw set and his eyes alight with the fire he felt in his soul.

Reaching Legolas' rooms, he knocked a little too brusquely, over compensating for his state of controlled anxiety.

The door opened after a few seconds to reveal a smiling, jolly-faced and almost puerile prince. He seemed inordinately ecstatic for one who had spent the morning in his rooms eating breakfast, none the less he was delighted at the almost mischievous expression the elf wore,

"May I", he ventured, gesturing inside the room.

"Come, lord Glorfindel, tell me you are here to show me the marvellous gardens of Imladris!"

"Well, my Lord, I had thought to invite you for a walk and to help you with any questions you may have, it that is agreeable to you, that is." He ventured, looking at the prince to gauge his reaction. He truly wanted to know if his invitation would be accepted through courtesy, or whether he indeed wanted him, Glorfindel, as a companion for the day. He was not disappointed as Legolas' face lit up in genuine gladness.

"'Tis settled then. Please sit while I finish dressing."

Moving into another room of the suite, Legolas put on his deep green tunic, his boots, and returned to the living-room, where Glorfindel was staring reverently at the pack of weapons beside the bed, for from its depths protruded a dagger handle which brought unshed tears to his eyes as soon as he chanced to see it. The handle was crafted from silver with gold worked intricately around it. There were amethysts inset into the precious metals, all in a swirling design that was all too familiar to him, for it marked the house of the Silver Tree –

"Legaelair..." he whispered, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

"You knew my great grandfather, then, Glorfindel?" asked Legolas softly, understanding that their relationship must have been special.

"Aiya but I knew him well Lord Legolas," he said, eyes cast down and sideways, as if visualizing something from the past. "He was one of such heart-breaking beauty – of the soul and of the face, and alas I perished before we could come together in the way of lovers, Legolas. And yet I am glad of it", he added then, as he turned his gaze on the prince, "for had I not, you would not be here."

As if surprised by his own monologue, he snapped to attention, realizing what he had said.

Legolas held his gaze for eternal seconds, and then he smiled, he smiled the most radiant expression of joy that Glorfindel had ever seen. No he was not offended, nor was he intimidated, he was flattered, and Glorfindel rejoiced with everything he was.

However, the mood needed to be steered away from its current direction, and so Glorfindel broke the magical moment and boldly approached the watching prince.

"Come, the trees await the presence of a wood elf!" he exclaimed, clapping Legolas on the shoulder and walking from the room with the unspoken invitation to join him.

Falling in with Glorfindel, Legolas pondered on what had just happened. Oh he was more than a little attracted to the renowned warrior, but was somewhat disconcerted with his own strange behaviour, for he showed no sound or reasoned judgement when it came to Glorfindel, he was all too ready to believe anything he said, all to willing to see the good things and discard any of the bad things. What was wrong with him? He had taken many lovers to his bed over the years, females, males, both, and had even dabbled in some of the less-accepted arts of pleasure, yet he had never been rendered an amateur by any, and yet his good judgement was under fire whenever he was in the presence of this revered elf.

And with that final though, Legolas stepped onto the green grass of Imladris for the first time, together with Glorfindel of Gondolin, friend of his great-grandfather and who threatened to become so much more to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas awoke to his second morning in Imladris, as relaxed and at ease as he had done on the first, only that his arm hurt no more, and his cheek did not smart.

He had bathed the night before, and had fallen into reverie on the marvellous chaise-long situated in front of the balcony windows. That is, he had slept as when he was still an elfling, such was the peace of Imladris, and the incipient joy he found in his friendship with Glorfindel, with whom he had spent a memorable afternoon exploring every nook and cranny of the valley mansion and its grounds. He had greeted every tree, visited every public room and museum, inquired of the allotments of herbs and vegetable produce, and had returned to the healing sector to check on Galdithion, who would be freed this morning into his own guest rooms. And all this he had done in the incomparable company of Glorfindel, who had been most diligent in his explanations and artistic interpretations of the many renderings of historical significance that graced the walls of Imladris. They had eaten lunch from a basket that Glorfindel had procured from the kitchens, in the privacy of Elrond's family gardens, to which only he, Erestor or Lindir were allowed to access without prior permission.

Legolas remembered the place well; it had a natural, intrinsic beauty, and yet there was decay in the roots of the sentinels, the once vibrant roses were singed and mottled with a blight, and a heart-crushing sadness hung about the place, and worse yet, they would not talk to him, for they seemed sad and despondent. He had said nothing to his host, for he had not wanted to spoil the wonderful moment of bliss he was sharing with his friend, but he had vowed then, to not forget this place, and to one day make a gift to the Peredhil family by restoring it to its former splendour.

And then evening had fallen, and Legolas had felt inexplicably tired, just as he had on his first day. He attributed this to the lack of threat, to the fact that he had been able to relax, really let his body and mind detach themselves and concentrate on himself, rather than on his duty to his father and people. And so he had bid Glorfindel a fond good evening, requesting that they meet the following morning for a tour of the barracks, before the personal preparations that he would need to make before the grand opening ceremony to the spring festival – the coming of the Spring Equinox, and of such special importance to him.

Lifting his head from the chaise long to peak out of the windows, he rejoiced at yet another beautiful spring morning. Sitting up further he let the morning breeze caress his bare skin as he smiled into the inquiring wisps of song. All was well in Imladris, and he smiled.

A bouncy nock at his door announced an eager Glorfindel, who verily strutted into the living quarters, smiling merrily in anticipation of his plans for the day with his new companion, that is, until he realised that Legolas was there, in the living room and not in the bedroom – draped over the settee in a most invitingly erotic stance.

"Aiya Legolas, I do apologize, I had not realized you were still abed, forgive me, my friend", babbled the warrior as he made to turn and give the prince his privacy, for he was obviously naked under that thin cotton sheet...

"Nay, Fin, we are now on first-name terms, and therefore protocol has naught to do with us, don't you think?" Drawled Legolas, as he lazily collected the sheet and held it to himself in a somewhat half-hearted attempt to save Glorfindel from mortal embarrassment.

"That is more than fine with me, Laas".

"Now then, my friend, what plans for me today?"

"Well, I had thought we would take breakfast in the main hall today. The opening gala is this evening and you will have to make your presence felt before then. You saw the reactions to your presence yesterday, albeit with a handful that managed to catch a glance at you, you do not want fainting elves at the ball now, do you?"

"Indeed, the protocol begins then. However, I would enjoy spending the morning familiarizing myself with your military installations, I am interested in gauging the differences in our militia before the cultural exchanges begin."

"Well, we could go straight after breakfast, – morning exercise begins at 9am. I can give you some background information and then we can visit the specific training areas, that should give you a reasonable insight into our methods." Glorfindel was all business now, for this is what he did, he was Imladris' general and knew exactly what Legolas, as general of his own, would want to see.

"Excellent, now, I will need to speak to lord Elrond, and perhaps lord Erestor regarding the arrangements for this evening. I introduced our court musician Amanthor to Lindir yesterday, and I know they have their own agenda for the day, but I must seek council regarding protocol, I think perhaps that we do things very differently to the Noldor, our Spring Equinox implies a series of songs and dances that are fundamental to our celebration, and then there is the protocol regarding myself. Perhaps we can seek audience after the midday meal?"

"Very well, I will arrange it."

"And", sighed Legolas as he combed his hand through his hair, "I really must do something with this."

"Ah...", And with that, Glorfindel plunged into a fully-fledged panegyric of the most fashionable establishment that the whole of Imladris was raving about, and which had the prince raising more than a few questioning eyebrows...

Just before they entered the well-populated dining area, Galdithion trotted up to his friend, taking in the stares his friend was receiving. This was nothing new, and indeed he frequently found himself having to protect his friend's integrity, not that he needed protecting, but it was his duty, as his personal guard, and he did it with relish.

"Gal, my friend, I see you are fit for active duty once more!" he exclaimed, smartly clapping his friend on the back.

"And make no mistake, Laas. You won't get out of things that easily, I have strict orders!"

"You always do, but come, join us for the morning meal."

Finally reaching the dining area, Legolas, Glorfindel and Galdithion were waved over to the head of the table, where Elrond, Erestor, Elladan and Elrohir were already seated, together with their guests Galadriel, Celeborn and Mithrandir.

"Come my friends, be seated", invited Elrond.

"A very good morn to you my Lords and Lady" greeted Legolas, as he and his companions took the indicated seats.

Various bowls and dishes were served, each with a large serving spoon so that each elf could help himself to whatever took his fancy. The variety was astounding, fresh rainbow trout in butter and parsley, grilled mushrooms, with some sort of pale-coloured sauce, slices of cold fowl, cooked eggs still in their shells, a platter with fresh, uncooked vegetables, steaming bread, pastries, the list went on, and Legolas found himself unable to fix his eyes on anything, for he wanted to taste it all - maintaining a warrior's body required healthy amounts of everything, and so Legolas was accustomed to ingesting a breakfast high in protein. And so, he served himself with a slice of the cold meat, a shelled egg, a sausage, and... and then he hesitated with the mushrooms.

"Ah, you are drawn to them, but are not sure about the sauce, is that it, my Lord?" asked Elrond. He had been watching the prince from the corner of his eye as he served himself.

"Well, yes, that is right. What is the pale sauce?"

"That would be Gaerwyn's famous cheese and chive sauce. Try it!", he instigated jovially, for Legolas had a look of such boyish delight at his description of the fungi, and Elrond was thoroughly entertained.

Taking up the spoon, he scooped up a conservative amount of the mushroom recipe, picked up his fork and loaded it. Before taking it into his mouth, he realised that the noise in the hall had died down considerably, and that he had a healthy audience. Indeed the protocol had begun, if he had been in his rooms, he would surely be packing them into his mouth and wiping up the sauce with a whole loaf of bread!

And so he delicately took the first slices of sauce-doused mushrooms into his mouth and chewed hesitantly. His vision was lost then as he savoured the most amazing fusion of earthy mushrooms, soft butter, tangy cheese, and the fresh crunchy chives.

The room was now silent, as its occupants observed the prince's reaction. His eyes had drifted off to the side, they had misted over, his brows had furrowed – and then, his beautiful blue eyes closed and an almost lustful groan escaped him. A smile spread over the face of every elf, as Legolas opened his eyes again, and blithely said: "I have a soft spot for mushrooms".

The room broke into laughter, as the clinking of forks, knives and glasses resumed.

"So, prince Legolas, I hear my friend and general showed you around my home, what think you of fair Imladris?" asked Elrond, as he spooned some mushrooms onto his own plate, before Legolas could finish them off himself.

"Ah, Lord Elrond, I will tell you that I am enchanted. 'Tis truly beautiful and not at all exaggerated, for in the Greenwood it is said that your home is peaceful, serene, and of a natural beauty that is difficult to rival. Indeed they were not wrong, you have a beautiful realm, my Lord."

Smiling, Elrond dipped his head at the prince, he felt flattered. However, Galadriel took advantage of the situation and asked a question of her own.

"And what do your people say of Lothlorien – my home?"

"Well, they say it is surrounded by mystery, and houses the tallest and thickest sentinels any elf has ever witnessed." This last statement was made almost reverently, and Galadriel noticed.

"The mellryn are indeed mighty trees, lord Legolas, you have never seen them, then?"

"Nay, but I should like to, if my lady ever sees fit to allow." He countered.

"Ah, then we shall discuss that during this festival, for both I and my lord Celeborn have many suggestions to propose during our stay."

"And may they all be propitious", added Elrond as he redirected the conversation. He was sensing magic, and not only from Galadriel, he just wished she would stop trying to gather her intelligence in that way, it was the second time she had attempted it, and her second failure.

Legolas happened to catch Elrond's eyes, and smiled almost imperceptibly.

Elrond also noticed that Galdithion had also caught his Lord's eye in an unspoken question, to which Legolas negated, again almost imperceptively. There was a subtle game being played out here, and Elrond was sure that Legolas was hiding something, something not even the lady of light had been able to fathom, and which Galdithion and ... Mithrandir? were privy to, for the istar's silence had said more than any intervention ever could.

"My lord Legolas, we were wondering if you would like to join us for a trip to the barracks this morning?" asked Elladan most courteously.

At this, both Elrond and Glorfindel turned to face the twins. Never had they heard Elladan so duteous and serious. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes as he looked closer. Yes! There it was, the determination mirrored around the older twin's jaw line. He was controlling himself, and no mistake, the question had come out too gentlemanly, and completely out of character. He didn't know if he liked the notion… and looking over to Elrond, he thought he may not be alone in this.

"Glorfindel and I had thought to do precisely that, if you would like to join us, you would be most welcome," intoned the prince.

"We will accompany you there, then! In fifteen minutes at the main gate?"

"Very well, my lords, we look forward to it."

Both Elladan and Elrohir wore identical satisfied smiles as they finished their breakfast in anticipation. Elladan however, had seen the look of disappointment on Glorfindel's face, 'could it be', he wondered – 'could it actually be that Glorfindel was falling for the prince, and not just interested in getting into his bed for a quick tumble?' He suspected it, and one quick look at his twin confirmed that the notion was not far-fetched, it was not far-fetched at all, and for all the Valar, who could blame him?

Galdithion had opted to take his breakfast a little further down the table, and found himself sitting in front of a small group of warriors, one of which was making comments to his companions in such a way that they were not audible to those sitting close by, which to Galdithion's way of thinking was both rude, and proof that something pejorative was being said. However he was not at liberty to confront the warrior, this was not his territory, and then again he may be wrong – there were many cultural differences between his homeland and Imladris.

Finally, breakfast was finished, and the young lords departed the table, leaving Elrond, Erestor and their guests, who were slower to rise. Pouring themselves a final cup of tea before starting the many many duties they were to see to before the ceremony that evening, Erestor looked to his friend.

"Well, well" he exclaimed, as he pushed a steaming cup towards his lord." That was – interesting?"

"Indeed, snorted Celeborn at the gross understatement. Galadriel simply smiled as she sipped at her camomile tea. Celeborn new exactly what Galadriel had tried to do, and was actually enjoying the fact that she was failing miserably, but he was too intelligent to openly mock her for it, instead opting for patting her white hand in commiseration.

Mithrandir smiled as he turned and left the hall unnoticed. He did not want either party to rope him into giving council on the matter – besides, his pipe called out to him.

Meanwhile, Galdithion walked with Glorfindel on their way to their rooms, and the guard took advantage to sate his curiosity.

"Lord Glorfindel, who was the warrior sitting in front of me? Did you notice at all?"

After a moment's thought, Glorfindel's face lit up in anticipated understanding.

"that would be Melven, Galdithion. Wherefore the question?"

"Nothing of importance as yet, my Lord, only that he seems unfavourable to my prince's visit, and as his personal guard, it is my duty to collect any information which may help me in my duty to my lord."

"Has he insulted lord Legolas?" asked Glorfindel, with a modicum of outrage on his face.

"Nay, not insulted, but I liked not his tone. I meant not to worry you, my Lord. Tis of no import as yet."

"But let me know if it becomes so, young warrior, for I will not have it." Glorfindel wore an expression of fierceness and Galdithion wondered at it, he looked like any Greenwood warrior would in the protection of their lord, yet Glorfindel had known him for but three days. Indeed the friendship they had established was the object of much talk amongst the Greenwood entourage.

"Indeed, neither will his people, my Lord", added Galdithion.

...

"This is the long sword training area. Today we have the third and fourth year trainees running through their exercises," explained Elladan as they strolled around the perimeter.

"How long do your warriors train before being admitted?" asked Galdithion

"Five years would be standard, but that depends on the trainee. Some make the mark at three or four, others after seven or eight years."

They moved past the sword training area to the short sword area, and Elrohir took over the explanations.

"Here, warriors train in the short sword. Trainees do not normally take up this weapon unless it is their specific desire to do so. It is considered a difficult discipline due to the close proximity of combat. We have only about 15 warriors trained in the art to varying degrees of skill."

"I would like to stay and watch for a while if I may", said Legolas, as he fixed an examining gaze on the warriors working through the stances and patterns.

All four young warriors leaned on the railings intently, observing.

"Who trains them in the art Elladan?" inquired Legolas.

"That would be Melven. An experienced warrior, although somewhat set in his ways, as you will no doubt find out. Why do you ask, my prince?"

Galdithion raised an eyebrow at that. His prince had already gained this warrior's animosity through no fault of his own, and now, Legolas was about to discover that Melven was no master in the art.

Elladan meanwhile, wondered if the question had been posed because he was impressed with what he saw, or the contrary.

"The style is very different to that which we use in the Greenwood, and if I may be so bold to say, somewhat less efficient."

Elladan's interest was piqued. He was not skilled in this weapon, and neither was his brother. The only really impressive warriors in the art were Glorfindel and Melven.

Melven, by now, had realised he had an audience, and realised that the blond warrior next to Elladan was the prince. 'Come to criticise me has he', he wondered, for he would not suffer to be humiliated by this woodland elf who had yet to earn his respect, and who he doubted ever would, for none could match the Noldor at skill with any type of blade.

Leaving his warriors at their practice, he walked over to the railings.

"Good morning my lords. Come to watch our daily training session?", he directed his gaze to his princes, Elladan and Elrohir.

"Indeed, Melven", replied Elrohir. The prince Legolas has expressed his interest in the differences between our style and that of the Greenwood."

"I dare say there are indeed differences, my prince. I would be delighted to give you instruction in the art if you would so wish."

Elladan and Elrohir resisted the urge to roll their eyes at the arrogance of their lieutenant, while Galdithion visibly bristled at the insinuation that his prince needed instruction in an art he was grand master at. 'Let the oaf find out for himself, then," he thought wickedly.

The prince maintained a serene countenance, although the barb was not lost on him.

"I thank you for the offer, Melven, but I have promised lord Elrond not to engage until tomorrow, but I would be delighted to take you up on it then.?"

"Of course, my lord. It would be an honour to instruct Thranduil's son." Said Melven, feeling proud of himself, for he truly believed what he said. He assumed that his skill would outmatch that of the prince.

Nodding to the group, he went back to overseeing his warriors.

"You see", said Elladan. "He is set in his ways, and he is indeed presumptuous. Do you believe he has anything to teach you my prince?"

"No", was the curt reply. "You see the differences I mentioned before are that, while Melven is instructing them in a blade art, in the Greenwood, it is a mixture of blade and hand to hand combat, it is much more, shall we say, acrobatic?"

Elladan, Elrohir and Galdithion shared a look of delighted complicity between themselves, they would make sure they were present when Melven's instruction of the prince began. And the twins would see to it that the whole of Imladris would be there. Glorfindel, however, was intrigued, for this sounded very much more like the Gondolin slant of the art, and asked Legolas as much.

"Tis more akin to the Gondolin variety of short-sword, but we have fused it with the Sylvan variety to produce what we believe to be the most effective one, we would be glad to give a demonstration tomorrow, of course."

And thus they passed the day between curious onlookers, swooning elves, and Legolas commenting on the styles in archery and broadsword. The twins had had a fine afternoon, and began to appreciate the friendship that Legolas freely offered them. He had not been boastful or arrogant in any way, and had refrained from joining in the training so as not to upset their routine, or threaten Melven or any of the other instructors he came into contact with. They found him to be humble, compassionate and honourable, yet even so he seemed to command respect from those that did not know him. He was a beautiful person in every way, and he had made two loyal friends, although he hadn't known it at the time. Elladan, however, had not completely given up on pursuing things in a different direction, although he was beginning to falter in his conviction that he would endeavour.

Afternoon meal came and all sat down, chatting about the mornings events. Elladan and Elrohir promptly informed their father and Erestor of Melven's intention to instruct the prince in the use of the twin swords, to which Glorfindel smiled enigmatically.

"I have not seen him perform, but I would wager a great sum that Melven will be sorely humiliated." offered Celeborn, who had been listening intently.

To this, Galdithion chuckled, drawing the attention of the group. He did not reply to their enquiring looks, just smiled a knowing smile as he took another bite of venison.

"How are preparations going for this evening, Erestor?" enquired Elrond.

"Ah, it is all quite hectic, Elrond. I have no idea what your people are doing to our beloved Hall of Fire, my prince," said Erestor, "but it is veritably walled off with some kind of tarpaulin, I cannot see what goes on beyond, only that the strangest sounds are being emitted from the area..." he accentuated all this with his characteristic trait of throwing both arms up into the air simultaneously, to which the table laughed.

"My people have been encharged with the song and dance for the opening festival, and will do so with the help and participation of your master musician Lindir. I am sure you will see many differences in our music, our song, our dance, and I know that Amarth is more than a little anxious about whether your people will appreciate it", said Legolas.

"Oh, I am sure they will, for a wood elf knows how to celebrate, they never miss out on an opportunity for song and dance," guffawed Mithrandir, who had by now also joined the select group at the table.

"Neither does a Maia, as rumour would have it", exclaimed Erestor with a sly look on his face.

Loud snorting could be heard from some elves then, but were cut off at the maia's chiding response.

"That will be quite enough, Erestor. The point is that it is all they have to lift their spirits in these their darkest days, my friends, is that not so young prince."

To this, Legolas merely nodded.

"Are things so dire, Legolas". inquired Elladan.

"Aye, they are. Our warriors ride out daily from sun up to sun down. We take two turns of 4 days away from home every two weeks. Life is both hard and heart-breaking, and you will find this reality reflected in our arts." I would say more, yet I have much intelligence to share with you, Lord Elrond, and so I shall save it for the appropriate time", said Legolas.

"Well then, that is settled,", said Mithrandir. I am off for a lazy afternoon before the evening's activities, a fair day to you all!" and with that, we was stepping outside into the beautiful spring day.

Meanwhile Maeron, the royal Greenwood physician, had struck up an amiable conversation with Erestor. They were discussing the cultural differences of their nations, when it came to fashion.

"Do you use robes or tunics?" enquired Erestor.

"Well, at court either is acceptable, although tunics will be calf length. I have noticed lord Erestor, that your style tends to cover the body greatly, whereas we in the Greenwood tend to accentuate it, I am thinking perhaps we may offend your citizens at tonight's festivities."

"How so? Surely you will not uncover the body's most sensitive areas?"

"Well, that would depend on what you call "sensitive areas" lord Erestor. Chests, backs, nipples and thighs will be on display, especially considering the nature of the festivities. The spring equinox is a rather sensual feast in the Greenwood, often culminating in the sharing of bodily pleasure", explained Maeron.

"Is it now", mused Erestor. He would get this tit bit of information to his friends as soon as he could.

Final preparations were now underway, with a scant four hours before the festivities were due to commence. Lindir, for his part, was talking eagerly to Amarth, the Mirkwood's chief minstrel and bard. They exchanged music scores, avidly explaining the nuances of their own musical styles, and Amarth briefing Lindir as to the conduction of the musicians, who they would direct together this eve. However, there was such an exotic array of instruments that Lindir had never seen, that he doubted he could conduct the Greenwood orchestra at all. There were small, wooden artefacts with four strings that would be played with a long stick with horse crins running down one edge, the sound was strange to him, and was unsure about how it would combine with the bulk of other instruments and voices. And then there was a set of hanging metal tubes which were designed to be struck by a small hammer, and a long, flute like instrument, but with six pipes of varying lengths with gave a husky sound. And then, there were two massive drums, surrounded by other smaller drums of different diameters and heights. It was all so much to take in, he was overwhelmed – he would seek comfort in his new-found friend Amarth.

...

Legolas donned a more formal tunic and made his ways to lord Elrond's library, where they were to meet to discuss the evening's activities. Knocking on the solid oak doors, he was ushered inside by a serving elf and offered a glass of wine, which he accepted as he admired the famed room. Near the fire, sat Glorfindel, who had bowed in greeting, and then Elrond and Erestor, who both entered from the balcony which overlooked Celebrian's dying garden.

"Ah, prince Legolas, welcome to my personal realm in Imladris", he said as he swept his arm out and around.

"I feel most honoured to be here, in the famed library of the Lord Elrond. 'Tis a wonderful room", said Legolas genuinely impressed by the warm yet imposing room. As in the Hall of the lower floor, here the fire was never extinguished and Legolas wondered at the meaning of that. He would ask once time was not an issue.

"Well now, tell me of that which you would speak" invited the Lord as he sat and poured himself a glass of wine.

"Well, my Lord I would like to discuss certain customs that the Greenwood observes with the coming of the Spring Equinox, and to explain to you the meaning of other customs that my people would hold to this evening."

"Tell us, lord Legolas, how do you greet the Equinox in Greenwoods halls", asked Erestor, leaning forward as he was wont to do when concentrating.

"Before I begin, my lords, I have two requests to make, if I may."

"And what would they be, prince", asked the host.

"Firstly, that we may dispense with the titles when in private, and secondly, that you take no offence by what I must describe to you regarding our customs."

"I well agree with dispensing the titles...Legolas, and as to your second request, you have me intrigued, yet know that I am old and have seen and heard many things, it is difficult to surprise me, or indeed offend me."

Legolas nodded to Elrond and then directed his gaze on Glorfindel and Erestor, who nodded likewise.

"Very well then, my friends. There is some background information you need to know before I go into details. You may already have guessed that life in the Greenwood is much harsher, we live life under the shadow of a hanging sword as it were, the threat, both physical and perceived is ever present. The forest settlements are attacked on a daily basis and the dark lord's minions are ever seeking to encroach on new ground and snatch it from the loving hands of my people. Our very existence depends on those that would give their lives to prevent this, and to protect the people and the forest in which they live – it is the warrior that is revered, for he or she takes an oath of fealty that is broken only in death, it is he or she that trains for centuries, for only the best of warriors can fight under those conditions and not lose their minds in the process, and I speak not only of physical capacity, but spiritual and intellectual capacity. The warrior is trained to the extreme in order to accept and understand the sometimes heart-wrenching decisions that one is forced to make. What is important for you to understand my friends, is that our culture is based on warfare, on living life to the extreme, of loss and mourning, and of appreciating every minute you have with those you love, for you may never see them again until you yourself perish."

There were what seemed like endless moments of silence, until finally it was Elrond who broke it, snapping back to reality from the world that Legolas had so adeptly described. He looked at Legolas then, perhaps for the first time, and he saw the elf under the legend that his people had created. He saw a priest, a leader of masses, an intelligent and well-loved elf who somehow managed to unnerve him, for there was still a part of Legolas that Elrond new was hidden, he perceived it, even if he had not witnessed the scene in the breakfast hall.

"I had thought that this may be the case, Legolas and said as much to Glorfindel and Erestor before your arrival. Things make more sense to me now, although I can see we have much to learn from each other, for you are right, Glorfindel will tell you that although our warriors are loved and respected, they do not receive the reverence that your people give them. I have seen your civilians bowing both to the Greenwood and Imladris warriors and had wondered at it, as indeed have some of our more vocal warriors have."

"And so, how does this affect your Spring celebrations?" asked Erestor, still hanging off the edge of his armchair."

"Well, as a culture that lives life to the extreme, let us say we are less...inhibited shall we say, and with respect to many things, such as our style of dress, or, if I may, the pleasures of the body."

"Oh," exclaimed Glorfindel, you may be mistaken there my friend, for we Noldor actually have a reputation to maintain in that field. Here, and if I may speak boldly, carnal pleasure takes many forms, all considered acceptable, however perhaps we are less open about it, hence the difference you may have appreciated." instructed Glorfindel.

"Perhaps", answered Legolas. He wanted to add that he would wait and find out, but stopped himself, he was nowhere near on those terms with his new friends, however much he was starting to wish he was.

"And so, Legolas, what _exactly_ goes on?" insisted Erestor. He wanted the details, especially after what Maethor had told him.

Legolas laughed, perceiving a light smattering of frustration in the councillor's tone.

"I will tell you what may concern me most. Our ceremonial attire is, scant, shall we say. There will be many chests, shoulders and thighs on display, and from what I have seen so far in Imladris, this is not your way."

"Well I would not worry about that. For you are right, but that does not mean we would be scandalized – oh I am sure your people will raise a few eyebrows, but I do not think that will be cause for offence, but please, continue..."

"the second point, is that it is custom for a Greenwood warrior to be armed on ceremonial occasions. It is traditional to wear some sort of keepsake, perhaps from a father, or grandfather, something of import to the warrior. In fact there are certain dances that require the use of a long sword. Is this acceptable to you?"

"I will tell you, Legolas, that under normal circumstances that would not be acceptable. However, I will defer to Glorfindel's better judgement on that issue, what say you, general?"

"I do not see why not, as long as Legolas vouches for the safety of our people."

"I can assure you Glorfindel, that our training and philosophy would not permit it, you can trust me on this."

"Very well, is there anything else that you wish to discuss?" asked Elrond, taking a sip from his glass.

"Well, yes, there is. There is the question of what we call carnal delight. The ceremony would traditionally be followed by indulging oneself in whatever form of sexual satisfaction that takes the fancy. And if I may be bold, it is rarely a question of two."

"You mean orgies!" blurted Erestor, wide eyed.

"Well, in private, generally between three or four, but yes, I suppose you are right. Remember that our perception of life is much shorter, more extreme, and desperate almost."

"We do not judge your people, Legolas", said Elrond. "Indeed some Noldor adhere to a similar tradition, again, perhaps the difference is in the extroverted nature of your people."

"Well you set my heart at rest, my friends, I was concerned that we would offend your people when there is nothing further from our minds." said Legolas.

Elrond stood then, and ushered Legolas to his side as he stepped out onto the balcony, The lord stared out over his realm, at one side his two friends, and at the other, Legolas.

"You live a life full of duty and sacrifice, young one, and yet you shine so very brightly" whispered Elrond then, a strange expression upon his face as he continued to look into the horizon.

Erestor's head whipped around to face his lord, for he recognized the tone, Elrond was having a vision. Glorfindel too, had noticed and knew not to interfere. Legolas however what looking at Elrond, wondering why the lord did not return his regard, and indeed why he had said what he had.

"You shine with the light of the Valar, your light speaks of nature and its part in the future, it speaks of... of trees, and... two trees, yes – the catalyst..." his voice dropped off as Elrond remained distant, as if listening.

"Legolas' eyes were wide in surprise, for he had witnessed something of Elrond's legendary foresight, he was sure of it, and what he had said made his soul tremble, for some of the missing parts suddenly and violently had clicked into place...

"You must excuse me, my lords, for I must visit with my people before the ceremony." Said Legolas, bowing and leaving the still absent Elrond in the presence of Glorfindel and Erestor.

"Elrond, come back" whispered Glorfindel as he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stirred then, and blinked, looking at his friend squarely.

"I saw the future, Glorfindel, he was standing before the tree, a white blossom resting against his chest, and then I saw the smiling eyes of Elros..."


	6. Chapter 6

Afternoon saw most elves in their own rooms, making their personal preparations for the evening, for expectations were high, Imladris had not staged an event such as this for nigh on an age, and her citizens were delighted, if not a little nervous.

Elrond spent it together with Glorfindel and Erestor. They had bathed and were now drying in front of the open balcony, taking advantage of the afternoon Sun. They felt lazy and relaxed, not really feeling like moving just yet. However, Elrond was still a little subdued as was his wont after a vision of the intensity he had suffered just a few hours before. He still needed to ponder on its meaning, for it had not been clear at all, as if the future were only half determined, not yet formed – it never was of course, for he did not believe in fate as such, only in probabilities, yet it seemed to him that something was missing, a turning point perhaps, something that would make that future more feasible. Well, now was not the time, and so, in his attempt to lighten the mood, he steered his friends away from their own internal brooding.

"You know," said Elrond, "what Legolas said about 'carnal delight', do you think he participates himself?" he asked blithely.

"Well, he is no prude as far as I can tell", added Erestor. "I would wager he does - my my, I cannot even think of it", he tutted, raking his hand through his hair in a somewhat agitated manner.

"You wish to invite him, Elrond?" asked Glorfindel, surprised that his friend would want to open their tight-knit circle after so long.

"I would not take that pleasure from _you,_ my friend, unless you have other thoughts...?" smirked Elrond.

Ah, what to say?, for he wanted nothing more than to get closer to the prince, yet he was not sure about the idea of sharing..., 'stupid', he thought then, jealousy is for those in love, and Glorfindel of Gondolin was _not_ in love.

"I am not sure whether he would be amenable to it. Perhaps we should see how the evening progresses – but tell me, now, is my lust for the prince that noticeable? I had thought not."

"Well," drawled Erestor, "your _attraction_ to him is obvious to us, your close friends, lust now, well, I would not know", he added, slanting his head back to catch Elrond's still smirking countenance.

"Well, an elf has needs, does he not, and if the prince is up to it, then fine, and if not, I am sure there will be plenty of fevered wood elves around to choose from, but come now, we have preparations to make."

And with that, the three friends stood and walked to their respective rooms to prepare for the evening, each lost in his own thoughts once more. Elrond and Erestor were pondering on the hasty retreat that Glorfindel had beaten, and Glorfindel himself thinking that he would do as he had said, he would seek out a willing partner after the celebrations - if Legolas was up to it, better than good, and if not, there would be many willing partners. And then, would he want to share? Of course he would, it is what they had always done, there was no reason not to, was there.

...

The serving elves just could not keep up with the constant requests for hot water, the upper quarters of the house were full, and almost every door stood open as one or various occupants readied themselves for the Gala. They had completely ran out of aromatic oils and scents, petals and soaps, and all the seamstresses were occupied, attending the ladies and lords that would be attending with last-minute alterations to hems, sleeves and clasps. From downstairs, the foreign sounds of musical instruments never before heard in Imladris, were playing scales and tuning their pegs or strings. Singers ran through exercises and the most alluring smells were wafting up from the kitchens – it promised to be a glorious evening the likes of which the Noldor had not celebrated for many years, and brought more than a few nostalgic tears to some.

...

Legolas was not vain, not really, no. But he was a prince and a crown one at that. Correct presentation had been drilled into him since we was an elfling. For himself he found it all highly uncomfortable, but he also realised that he was the chief representative of his nation, his culture, and as such, his own personal preferences played no part in what he would wear tonight - not only was he representing the Greenwood, but the forests themselves, nay, there was no room for his own considerations.

Stepping into the steaming water of his bathing chambers, he spent the next hour immersed in the scented herbal waters. He scrubbed his body and washed his hair. Stepping out, he reached for a large bathing towel placed to the side, and wrapped it around his middle. Still dripping from the bath water, he padded into his sleeping chamber. A tentative knock at the door revealed Galdithion and Henian, who smiled slyly at their prince, half naked and dripping.

"Ready to dress Legolas?" drawled Henian.

"Aye, give me a moment to dry off, will you" he said, moving back into the bathing chamber.

Meanwhile, his friends and aids retrieved the formal traditional outfit of the prince of the Greenwood, which had changed dramatically to accommodate his new status but scant years previously, as per his lord father's orders.

Now there were still nearly two hours before they would be due in the Hall of Fire for the commencement of the festival, but that is how long it would take to get Legolas' robes and hair ready, for it was all very complex, and highly symbolic.

Re-emerging from the bathing chamber, Legolas had wrapped his generous groin in a tight fitting black cloth. He had rubbed his body in Benach oil, a special forest recipe which left the skin shining but without the greasy finish. This only served to set of the powerful ripples of his muscled torso, thighs and abdomen, and however many times his friends had seen him so, they still could not help but marvel at the magnificent form he cut.

Approaching his friends he moved his arms out to the side so that they could begin to rob him.

He stepped into a green, A-shaped underskirt that reached down to his knees but which was slit up the sides to the waist, revealing his powerful quadriceps when he walked. Next, another longer black velvet skirt was placed, also slit but this time up the back and front, allowing the moss green of the underskirt to combine with the black, but which was longer at the back. Galdithion picked up what looked like a reel of black velvet. This he began to wrap around the prince's torso, tying it off to one side so that a long strip dangled down his right leg. This left his right arm and breast bare, but his left completely covered. Finally, the black boots that reached up to his knees, mithril leaf patterns covering the top rims. No breeches covered his muscled legs, except for the cloth of the skirts that would only reveal his body when he was in movement. But this was only the beginning…

First, Henian knelt before his prince and placed his ceremonial dagger into the waist which was wrapped in the black velvet. The dagger was slender and curved, encased in an exquisite mithril and gem encrusted sheath, its pattern that of the Silver Tree of Gondolin, Laegaelair's heirloom.

His bicep bracelet was placed with much reverence, for it signified his station as Lord of the Forests. Then, his forearm bracelet, which signified his military station, and finally his wrist bracelet, showing his status of crown prince of the Greenwood. A small mithril circle crowned with a small emerald was placed through his right nipple, signifying that which had not yet been disclosed.

Brushing out his extraordinarily long golden mane, the crown was placed. This crown made a V shape at the front and back, and sunk down to the tips of his pointed ears, with the front dipping down to the juncture of his eyebrows. Gold and mithril swirls were encrusted with sapphires and emeralds. Now, his hair would be worked into the crown, braided into the root-like swirls of metal along the sides of the crown. The rest of his hair was loose, reaching down to the waist of his upper tunic, although a few small metal beads had been worked into the loose hair near its base.

His friends steered him in front of the body length mirror for his approval. Well, he had warned Erestor through his friend and healer, had he not? He thought to himself. He had even warned Elrond himself, telling him of his concern regarding the possibility of offending his citizens.

Henian and Galdithion had already prepared themselves, and were the perfect picture of fully-armed woodland warriors, Galdithion especially, for he was the personal guard of the prince, and as such, was required to don special clothing. As with all the warriors, half of his chest was also bare, his forearm displaying a bracelet marking him as master in two arts.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Come" bid the prince.

Erestor slipped into the room with the intention of escorting the prince to the halls. However he found himself unable to utter a single word – his mouth made the movements, but his vocal folds had failed him.

Never in his long life had he seen such a thing. Such a vision of sensual, regal beauty, and for the first time in a long while, Erestor gaped – for it was not only the physical beauty that had overloaded his senses, but the sense of unearthliness, wildness, of strength of aura, leadership and compassion – pure power… he felt like weeping, but not in vain was he the chief advisor to Elrond, and successfully reigned himself in, shut his mouth, and bowed low.

Behind Legolas, his two friends and loyal guards shared a knowing smile, and proudly stepped away, behind their charge.

Bowing softly, the prince greeting Erestor, who looked beautiful, he thought, and allowed himself to be led, flanked by his two beloved friends to the Hall of Fire, where soft music, obviously played by Lindir's musicians, could already be heard.

...

Imladris was alive. The long tables were decked in fine linen and silver table ware. Beautiful plants and flowers had been placed along the centre of each table. Delicate goblets and jugs full of fine wines and water where scattered around them. Lords and ladies milled around, greeting each other, old friends embracing.

Galadriel and Celeborn had already been heralded and escorted to seats at the head of the table where Elrond and his sons resided at the very head, with Glorfindel between Elladan and Galadriel, his grandmother.

They talked quietly between themselves, sipping on their goblets of crisp white wine, trying to hide their anticipation, for there had been much talk of the Greenwood elves and their customs, both during and after the Spring Equinox, and then for others it was the first of a series of events that may well change the future, give hope to a brighter future of peace and light, rid at last of the darkness that loomed over the horizon.

Mithrandir had been seated next to where Erestor would be sitting, and was smiling at the congregation, although an air of expectation hung about him, which neither Elrond nor Galadriel had missed, however now was not the time to broach the subject, for the Greenwood had arrived, and the gala began.

The noise abruptly stopped then, and even the music the Imladris bards were playing had waned, for Erestor stood in the doorway, and that could only mean that the Greenwood were to make their entrance.

The tune promptly ended, and the wood elves took their places on the stage, picking up their foreign instruments, the massive drums placed upright and poised for action, and an excited Lindir stood next to Amanthor, who was to direct the numerous forest orchestra.

One drum beat then, followed by a second and a third, all in unison to create a single but powerful slow beat that provided the base for the music that then began to play, for a single fiddler had struck up a solemn tune, which was joined by the strange four-stringed instruments the wood elves held by the strength of their chins, passing a long stick over them to create an almost voice-like sound. After, two flutes and another woodwind instrument struck up a stunning counterpoint that, together with the stringed instruments, created an earthy, atabic rhythm that struck the very basic chords of existence.

The tune picked up then, turning into a happy melody yet still with a strong percussion and woodwind base. The Greenwood civilians began to parade then, holding their arms out to the side as they entered, nodding and smiling to those they passed, all wearing an identical expression of joy and pride. They did not take their seats though, instead forming a line which ended with the seats of honour, with Lord Elrond and his sons at its pinnacle.

Their attire was light and gauzy, flowing around bare knees and chests, long manes of hair falling freely down their backs. They were the picture of natural beauty and joy – an almost puerile disposition floated around them. They were strangely happy in the face of adversity and Elrond could not fathom how they held to light, how they cleaved to goodness when their warriors rode to battle and death on a daily basis, their sons and brothers returned to them dead or gravely wounded.

And then the music finished, giving way to a chorus of voices that emerged from the line of wood elves, who turned to the door as they sang a beautiful herald. The overall effect was nothing short of hair-raising, as tears sprang to the eyes of the Noldor in the face of such alien, and yet beauteous music. The civilians then raised their arms to the door, as Erestor emerged, touched by the music that would accompany his herald – he rose to it and solemnly held his own arms out as he proclaimed the presence of Crown Prince Legolas, of Greenwood the Great.

Erestor stepped to the side then, as Legolas appeared from behind him, flanked by two, fully armed Greenwood warriors in full battle attire. That was surprising enough, but then the eyes of Imladris fell on the Prince, as he slowly began to walk along the line of his people who sang out his presence in beautiful harmony, smiling at them as he slowly passed by.

Elladan looked on in complete astonishment, for the sight before him was nothing short of shocking – it was the kind of situation he knew he would remember throughout his eternal life. He turned then to his brother and knew that he was not alone in this reverence of the moment, for Elrohir stared in open-mouthed shock as the Prince stepped forward.

Glorfindel simply had no words, for the vision before him was wild, beautiful, dangerous, foreign, and so utterly, heart-breakingly perfect, all these words came to him, and yet he could not describe his feelings – for he had not the words.

Meanwhile, Galadriel looked on, scrutinizing the elf that enjoyed such reverence from his people. How fair he was, how alluring his presence, goodness emanated from him, and yet he had rejected her – in a sense, at least. He was powerful and he was somehow transcendental to the tapestry of the future of Middle Earth, of that she was sure, but the details escaped her.

Walking slowly and gracefully, he set his eyes on those of the lord of Imladris, and ignored the bewildered gazes of those present.

Finally arriving in front of the lord, he extended the formal greeting which was received with equal formality by first Elrond, then his sons, followed by Celeborn, Galadriel, Glorfindel, Erestor and Mithrandir.

Mithrandir smiled at the prince and nodded gently in recognition of his presence, as Legolas allowed himself to be seated between Elrond and Elladan, to the right of the lord.

Any other would have been embarrassed to the extreme, as gazes continued to bore into him, but he had born this his entire life, and was more than accustomed to dealing with it. Galdithion took up his standing position behind his prince's chair where he would remain for the rest of the evening. He would not be partaking in the festivities; rather he was on duty, a duty he took very seriously indeed.

Elrond stood then, and all stood with him, except Legolas.

"My lords, ladies, friends. Today marks the beginning of one of the most important events between the Elven realms for many years. For it is our hope that ties will be established between us all, but especially with our woodland kin, so long estranged from us. Military, cultural and humanitarian agreements can be reached, improving the well being of all and it is my sincere hope that all this and more will be achieved. We are honoured in the presence of the Crown Prince Legolas, Thranduilion. May your stay with your Noldor kin be enlightening, uplifting and inspiring. Welcome!"

"Welcome!" Chorused almost everyone in the room. Melven sat watching, a smug smile on his lips, his closest friends mirroring his attitude. Politics, it was all baseless words, what counted was the strength of one's heart and his sword arm.

Now, Legolas stood, as was customary, for the welcome must be acknowledged.

"My lords, ladies, friends and fellow warriors. It is Greenwood's great pleasure to be present at such an important event, here in beautiful Imladris. Tis my first visit to your valley, and I will say that I am overcome by its beauty, and that of its citizens."

This earned him a pleased murmur from the crowd.

"Both I and my father, King Thranduil Oropherion, hold great expectations for the outcome of this meeting, and it is our greatest desire to establish relations with our Noldor kin. During our stay, we hope to introduce to you a little of our culture and heritage through the sharing of song and dance, diplomacy and negotiation, and thus forge greater understanding and brotherhood between our peoples that will only serve to benefit us all in our search for a peaceful future.

I wish to thank you, Lord Elrond, for agreeing to stage this event, and all of you present, for your gracious welcome this eve. We are indeed honoured to be here. May the blessings of the Valar be with you all."

And with that he raised his goblet. "To kinship, understanding, love and peace."

A cheer went up as all took a sip from their goblets.

Sitting down, Legolas received an approving smile and nod from his new-found Istari friend and fellow protégé, Mithrandir the grey

Elrond was bewitched. He had met Thranduil two thousand five hundred years ago on the battlefield, and aye, he was fair. But he was also crude, in an authoritative kind of way. A good king, no doubt, but it seemed to him that he had been a better father. How proud he should be of this ultimate representative. For he had earned the respect and love of the vast majority of the valley with a few, well-chosen words. He was the perfect son, the perfect advisor, diplomat, representative – it was not that he was not proud of his own sons, but they did have a penchance for living their own lives, pranking and fooling around being high on their list of priorities, as was avenging the passion of their mother. Or was it, perhaps, that he had not been able to observe them in the capacity that Legolas was now fulfilling? He would think on it, for if things went according to plan, there would be a trip to the Greenwood in the future, where the tables would be turned.

Conversation started again, and the music picked up, as platter upon platter began to emerge from the kitchens.

Legolas was prompted by all at the head of the table to try this or that delicacy which he did. He enjoyed it all, except for a delicacy he had been told was extremely rare and of an acquired taste. A river mollusc which had been steamed and served with lemon and butter. The taste was not overly disgusting to him but the texture was altogether too slimy for him. He grimaced but managed to swallow the gelatinous lump, earning himself a teasing laugh from the lords.

"It is an acquired taste my prince, but perhaps you would rather try our mushroom delights? " Teased Glorfindel.

Legolas looked towards him with an apologetic grin. And then he realized just how much this warrior enticed him. He looked nothing short of magnificent in his Gondolidrim attire, and he was enspelled, for Glorfindel emanated power, strength, and everything he respected. He was also, of course, passing fair and he wondered if he would be agreeable to a little 'carnal delight', he would take the warrior's measure during the evening and take things from there.

"Ah, that looks mighty fine", he said, as he helped himself to a rather large brown mushroom filled with, with what? Oh well, he would soon find out, taking a bite out of it.

The eyes of all were upon him yet again, as they had been at breakfast, as he took in the taste of the fungus.

Closing his eyes slowly, he chewed conscientiously, rolling the soft yet fibrous material around his mouth. After a few seconds, he opened his dazzling blue eyes and exclaimed, almost as if annoyed -

"By the Valar, this is exquisite!"

All laughed as the prince took the rest of the mushroom into his mouth and chewed on it.

"What are they called? Mushroom delights you say?"

"That is it my prince", replied Celeborn. "For I had much the same reaction the first time I tried them. I would wager they have made a good cache for they know I devour them", he said, stuffing one into his own mouth.

"Ah, lord Celeborn, ready your sword, for I see we will be fighting over them before the night is through."

After tasting many other treats and specialities from Imladris, the prince was finally sated.

"I can take no more my lords, for I feel verily stuffed. Lord Elrond, if you would allow, I would like to meet your head chef, Gaerwyn, is it?"

Elrond's eyes lit up in delight. The kitchen staff was rarely thanked for their labour and he thought it a wonderful idea. Bending to the serving elf nearest him, she scuttled off to do his bidding, a wide smile upon her fair face.

A few moments later, a flustered looking elf appeared, flanked by two female elves, smoothing down their dresses and hair as they approached lord Elrond.

As they came before him, Elrond turned to the prince.

"My friends, prince Legolas has requested your presence before us."

Turning to the prince, the head chef would not look him in the eye, for he felt embarrassed and out of place, his realm was the kitchen, there _he_ was prince, here however, he felt – insufficient.

Picking up on this, Legolas approached the elf and lay a hand on his shoulder.

"What is your name, good chef?"

"Gaerwyn, my prince," he replied, still looking to the floor.

"And you", he asked directing his gaze to the lady behind him.

"Brathina, my prince"

"Brathiniel, my prince"

Legolas smiled and looked back to Gaerwyn.

"I wished to commend you publicly for your trials in the kitchens today. It has been long since I have eaten so well, you have a golden touch my friend, a touch that deserves the utmost recognition. Please pass on my fondest regards to all your staff, and my commendation of your art."

Gaerwyn looked up then and for the first time met the eyes of the prince. He no longer felt embarrassed, but highly honoured, because cooking _was _an art, he had said so many times, although mostly he was met with laughs and chuckles.

Smiling, he dipped his head and replied.

"My prince, it is a pleasure to cook for you and your kin, your recognition only serves to make us strive to limits we have yet to achieve. We are most honoured."

"You are an artist, my friend; I look forward to mealtimes during my stay in the valley!"

Soft chuckles filled the room and Gaerwyn and his companions bowed and retreated back into their kitchen sanctuary, goofy smiles upon their satisfied faces.

The prince turned and sat back down, meeting the smiling gazes of those closest to him at the table.

"That was a fine gesture, my prince. I am sure the kitchens will outdo themselves for you after that display", guffawed Galadriel.

"My lady, good work always deserves praise, as I am sure you will agree. I am delighted with your fare, lord Elrond, tis exquisite indeed. I will need your professional advice as to a diet before I leave your beautiful home, one cannot battle spiders with a pot belly!"

More chuckles resounded and the feast continued. Yet Glorfindel picked up on how natural it had been for this elf to refer to warfare, to the vile, despicable arachnids that infested the deeper areas of the woods to the south. It was plain to him that battle was a daily event in his life.

After the desserts and fine liquors had been consumed, tables had been withdrawn and chairs had been set up in a semicircular pattern around a roaring fire. Legolas sat back in one of them, sipping on his wine and enjoying the company, as he stole a covert glance at the beautiful warrior seated to Elrond's left.

During a lull in the conversation and dancing, Legolas turned his gaze to one of the plants that had been adorning the centre table. He knew of course, that they would all be replanted after the celebration, but this plant was in distress. Moving his upper body forward, he reached out with his right arm and brushed his fingertips over the drooping leaves.

As Elrond conversed with Celeborn, he caught Legolas' action from the corner of his eye, although he continued speaking with his long time friend.

Within seconds, when Legolas was once more leaning back in his chair, the leaves began to stand upright, and regained their deep green colour. A wistful smile crossed the prince's lips as he returned his gaze to the milling crowds. Elrond, having observed the transformation, gazed at the plant a few moments longer, looking up then to the prince, who was not paying attention.

So this is part of his abilities, he is a plant healer, a touch healer of plants. Elrond wondered if anything could be done for Celebrian's rose garden that had been dead for fifty years, withered without the loving care his partner had indulged on them. Perhaps he would ask Legolas later on in his stay, when he had a little more confidence with the prince, for more than himself he would do it for his sons and daughter, for they missed her so, and spying the withered rose garden was like a painful reminder of her agony and final departure from middle earth.

The music picked up then, and out of nowhere, dozens of elves were swarming the prince, Elladan and Elrohir, inviting them to dance, as they jigged and tapped their feet, creating a cacophony of stomping feet that set the heart aflame, and the adrenalin flowing.

And so the evening passed, with fine wines, dancing, and much merry making. Most of the conversations were revolving around love, romance and sex, for the woodland prince had inspired them, most would not bed down alone tonight, least of all Glorfindel, who had made his vow before the gala had begun.

As the prince continued to dance, Glorfindel could not take his eyes off his swishing skirts, which from time to time would reveal the prince's powerful thigh muscles. He assumed that he _was_ wearing something under the skirts, but try as he might, he could not get even the briefest glance, the skirt was skilfully designed to entice, but not reveal - clever indeed.

"Glorfindel"

The call of his name had startled him. It was Mithrandir, looking at him closely.

"Aye, Mithrandir"

"No luck then?"

"As to what exactly, my dear wizard?"

"Ah, come now. I have known you since your return. You are drawn to him."

"As all of Imladris is drawn to him, yes, I do admit it"

"Beautiful, is he not?"

"Mithrandir, what is it you wish to tell me, or warn me of?"

The wizard chuckled then, but held the Balrog slayer's gaze. "Simply have a care, my friend. He has a purpose; he is more than he appears.

"My intentions are benevolent, Mithrandir."

"I am sure of it, my friend, for I do not doubt you."

"And do you doubt Elrond, or Erestor, mayhap?"

"Nay, I do not. I wish you all joy this eve, in whichever shape and form that joy may take. And yet remember, this elf is central to the designs of the Valar; he will play a pivotal role in that which is to come."

Glorfindel's answer was short and succinct, and Mithrandir understood it perfectly, however, surprised he _was_.

"I know".

Author's note: please note that all successive chapters warrant an NC-17 rating. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Ah, and thanks to Spiced Wine for the lovely adjective.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Imladris had never seen the likes of it. The spring festival had never been so … alive, so merry, so absolutely enthralling. The woodland elves had spun their merry tunes, their warrior chants, they had thrown knives, jumped over fires - their utter rejoicing of life and its renewal had entranced the valley, and yet they had held back. This was the first time they had performed for Imladris, and they did not want to show everything they were capable of, not yet, not until their Prince had achieved his diplomatic goals – they were not going to risk the potentially important commercial agreements that could be sealed for their people, their industry, and so they had showed Imladris a somewhat watered-down version of their Spring Festival activities.

Melven had also been impressed, although he would not have admitted to it, not yet, at least. A fine spectacle they were, dressed as they were, jigging and swirling to the exotic music their bards performed. The voices uplifting in tunes that sometimes were merry, sometimes solemn, sometimes soul-raising, followed by sad lays of warriors and lovers, long gone and sorely missed.

Elrond watched it all, enjoyed it all. Glorfindel, he noted, was _there,_ at the very front of the on-goings, unlike him in every way. He tended to stay at the side lines during events such as these. And yet there he was, jigging along with the others, clapping and goading and … thoroughly enjoying himself, the whole while his eyes fixed on Legolas. He knew then, somehow, deep in his subconscious mind, he knew they would be more than friends, for Glorfindel, in all his years after returning, had never paid more than a night's interest in anyone save himself and Erestor.

There were no bonding possibilities amongst them, nay, for he did not love them as soul mates would. Deep affection and lust of course, but love, nay, he had not captured that emotion in Glorfindel – until now. But how would he react if he was to invite the Prince to his quarters after the gala?

He decided that he would do it all the same, and if it went ill, then he would talk to his friend in the morning, for this night was for passion, love, and fantasy. Besides, Glorfindel was obviously playing down his attraction to the Prince, insisting that his only malady was lust.

Thus decided, he spared a glance to his left, where Legolas sat sipping at his cup, grinning as he watched his subjects submit to the wine and the forest beat, along with a few of the more adventurous citizens of Imladris.

"Legolas, I and some of the lords present, wish to invite you for a nightcap in my chambers, if that is acceptable to you."

Legolas looked into Elrond's eyes. They had changed from lordly calm to something entirely different, they were smouldering, almost. And what did a 'nightcap' mean anyway? Well, if he were any judge of innuendo, he would say he was being invited to an orgy. But ever aware of cultural differences, he did not wish to jump to conclusions and make an utter oaf of himself. He would bide his time, accept, and see for himself what it meant. He would think about what to do with Llyniel later, whom he had invited to _his_ quarters.

"I would be honoured, Elrond. Let me know when the time is ripe and I shall follow."

Elrond beamed at this. He was unsure as to whether the prince had understood the nature of his invitation, but he would bide his time, for he did not wish to inadvertently offend, what a bothersome thing politics was.

Legolas began to wonder what 'some of the lords present' actually meant. In the Greenwood, a 'nightcap' was generally understood as an invitation to one's bed, But was it the same here, in Imladris? He knew not, but oh, how he wished it was. To take pleasure on this special eve, with the most spectacular of elves, giving and receiving – Glorfindel, Elrond, and Erestor perhaps. His mind was racing not far behind his genitals, he knew. But it had been nigh on two months since he had last revelled in such carnal pleasures, and he was more than ready to indulge himself, utterly.

Elrond sat back, satisfied that he had laid the first stone, and that indeed the forest lord would grace his chambers at his behest, aware or not of what he and his friends had in store for him. Now, he would speak to those that we would invite for the 'nightcap'.

Meanwhile, Glorfindel had returned to the table from the 'front line', for a well-earned glass of red and a rest. Still beaming at the fun he had had for the first time in an entire age, he turned to his second life-long friend.

"What?"

"Well - you are beaming, my friend." said Elrond, a sly but contagiously happy expression on his wise features.

"Beaming am I? you exaggerate!"

"Nay, I do not. You are happy my friend, and glad I am of it. Now heed me, if you will. I have invited Legolas for a nightcap."

Glorfindel gaped at his friend. "A _nightcap_? How did he take it? I mean, was he amenable to it?"

"Well, yes. But remember, it may not have been understood in the way it was meant if you follow, Findel. He may simply have understood that we will share a brandy and an exchange of impressions."

"Um, perhaps. But he accepted?"

"Yes, he did. I also said that I and some of the lords would invite him. He knows that it will not just be me present."

Glorfindel's mind was racing. If Legolas had truly understood the meaning of 'nightcap', and knew that some of the lords would be present, he was basically acquiescing to an orgy. And how did he feel about that? 'Good, better than good, happy? Nay, that was nowhere near what he was feeling. It would be the best session he and his erstwhile lovers had ever had, of that he was sure. To contemplate _him_ in the throws of passion, to see others take their pleasure in his exquisite form, feel him, touch him, dominate him, spill over him… it was too much – he could not continue, for he himself would spill something that was not wine, right there at the high table.

Glancing at Erestor, he found him exchanging pleasantries with Maeron, the healer. However he must have sensed Elrond's attention, for he immediately turned his head in his direction, an inquisitive look on his dark, exotic features. Elrond simply nodded in his direction.

'A nightcap', he thought. 'Oh yes, yes!' Had Elrond had the dexterity of including the forest lord? Sweet Valar, if he had, it would be the most memorable session they had ever had.

Legolas, meanwhile, had managed to extricate himself from his many would-be dance partners and companions. He wished for a quiet moment and a refreshing glass of wine. Gliding back to the high table, he sat beside Elrond and served himself, as he watched Glorfindel chatting amiably with Celeborn and Galadriel. She had momentarily glanced in Legolas' direction and gave him a slight nod, a charismatic half smile upon her lips.

Elrond stood then, as did Glorfindel. Addressing the elves at his table he proceeded to extricate himself and his companions from the festivity.

"My Lords, ladies. Please continue to enjoy the festivities for as long as you desire. Tomorrow will bring many novelties to Imladris – after a late breakfast, of course! I shall see you all then!"

The hall chuckled at the comment, and were glad of it, for the wine was flowing freely and spirits were still high.

And with that he turned towards the staircase, catching Legolas' eyes. Glorfindel followed his lord, as protocol dictated, only of course he would not be returning to the revelries.

After five minutes, Legolas excused himself to his two guardian friends, telling them that they were free for the rest of the evening, and to enjoy themselves thoroughly, and he knew they would. Galdithion merely nodded, a sneaky smile on his fair features.

"Enjoy the nightcap, my lord."

Legolas smiled back, nodding, and promptly left the hall of fire, bound for the Lord of Imladris' chambers.

...

"Ah, Legolas, come in – please"

"Thank you my Lord"

"Take a seat – wine?"

"Yes, thank you."

The prince sat on a wide sofa, opposite the roaring fire of Elrond's spacious chambers, accepting the goblet of wine the lord passed him. Nodding his head in thanks, he turned his beautiful face to the bright flames, their reflection dancing in his expressive eyes.

"So, my prince. Did you enjoy the festivities this eve?"

"I did, my lord. Good food - mushroom delights, no less! Imladris offers fine entertainment indeed."

Elrond listened to the prince's comments as his eyes rolled over the most exquisitely made elf he had ever beheld. Still in his formal attire, a mithril and emerald crown upon his fair head, silken locks of waist length hair weaved in among the twining swirls of the leaf pattern, intricately braided in that style he could not place.

Styles and fashions were radically different between Imladris and Greenwood, as Erestor had previously warned him. While the Sylvans were given to wearing generally less clothing, what clothing they _did_ wear was often of silken or gauzy linens, except of course their warrior attire, which was quite the opposite. The Sindarins had partially adopted their Sylvan brothers' fashions, but had added to it the use of jewellery of every shape and form. Their love for piercing was also adopted and often took on symbolic meanings, which then had to be explained for their non- Sylvan or Sindarin kin. Legolas had obviously adopted both legacies, for while his clothing was essentially Sylvan, his accessories betrayed his half-Sindarin origin.

And there sat Legolas, knee-high boots hugging bulging calves and quadriceps. His upper tunic, if one could call it that, had only one sleeve, showing the entirety of his right arm, in pure Sylvan fashion. High upon his bicep, sat an exquisite mithril arm band - there was clearly a design to the swirls, but said design suggested nothing to him – perhaps he would ask later. He knew it was something symbolic. Moving his gaze down the arm towards the forearm, another band sat there, wider, almost in the fashion of an archer's vambrace, even his index finger was bejewelled.

"This is fine wine, Elrond, one you did not serve at the feast."

"Nay, indeed, this is a vintage, reserved for my special guests."

"Then I am honoured, lord."

As he waited for his fellow lords to join them, Elrond's casual perusal of the woodland prince's form continued. Up the muscled arm to the neck and further up to his right ear lobe, where he found a small golden stud piercing it. Next to this was another pierced object, a simple flattened curve of mithril which rose up to almost the tip of a perfectly pointed ear.

Moving down the prince's torso, he tried to capture something of what lay between his slightly opened thighs, but much to his chagrin, that area lay covered by the trails of the prince's two long skirts, slit to the thighs though they were.

The prince was relatively tall, matching his own height, but he was of heavier build than most, slender yes, but very well muscled, as he had seen the previous night. This elf was a swordmaster for sure, but he was also an archer, the configuration of his shoulder and forearm muscles told him as much. Glorfindel would appreciate this body with relish, and he would relish watching him doing so...

Elrond was snapped out of his appreciation as the door was pushed open, revealing two others. Both Elrond and Legolas stood to greet the newcomers.

Legolas could not help feeling ecstatic that he was getting the chance to enjoy the company of these three elves' company on this special night, he would not have chosen any differently.

As Elrond invited Glorfindel and Erestor to share their vintage wine, all took seats before the fire to enjoy a first sip of the exquisite liquid.

"Did you enjoy the festivities, Prince?" enquired Glorfindel.

"I was just commenting on it with Elrond. The music and dance was wonderful, although so different from our native woodland culture. I hope our own renditions were equally entertaining for your folk."

"Indeed, I for one enjoyed it immensely. So different from our music, alien in fact, yet of much beauty and so skilfully played. I am sure Lindir will learn much from the festival with Amanthor as his tutor," commented Erestor.

"So, Legolas," began Glorfindel. "What do our woodland lords do as entertainment, after a formal feast?"

Legolas turned to his friend, more than understanding the undertone. He was no innocent after all. The others looked towards him with anticipation.

"Well, Glorfindel, that would depend on the circumstances, and of course … the company. Is this different to your customs Elrond?"

"Indeed not, he replied. There are many forms of entertainment that we enjoy. Some we have already seen, and some we may yet experience. There is good food, wine, song, dance, … and bodily pleasure."

Legolas held his gaze for a moment, glad of the forthright manner in which Elrond broke the tension in the room.

"Ah, yes. Bodily pleasure. And yet there are so many ways to achieve it, are there not?" replied Legolas. If Elrond was forthright, Legolas was nothing if not bold.

A soft chuckle escaped the lips of Erestor.

"Indeed there are. Some males prefer females, others those of their own sex. And then within same sex coupling, there is a whole host of preferences, fantasies, fetishes …"

Some soft intakes of breath were heard, although Legolas held his composure well, noted Glorfindel.

It was Glorfindel who spoke next. "I am completely convinced that gender is but a secondary issue, beauty is to be found in both males and females, wouldn't you agree, Prince?

"Indeed I do."

"As do I", added Elrond, but ever have I achieved my greatest pleasure with males."

Taking a long sip from his goblet, he sensed all eyes fixed onto him.

"I invited Llyniel to my quarters after the festivities, and I would like her to join us, if that is amenable to you all...?"

"I for one would be delighted, Legolas, what say you Elrond, Erestor?" asked Glorfindel.

At identical nods of agreement, Legolas smiled, he felt sure the lusty Llyniel would be more than willing to lie with these great lords.

"Then you must excuse me for a few moments, my lords, for in the Greenwood there is some protocol to satisfy before Carnal Delight. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course Legolas, we eagerly await your return".

Exiting the room, Legolas went to find Llyniel, who indeed was overjoyed and somewhat inhibited, but she would not let this opportunity escape her. They agreed to meet in Legolas' rooms in 15 minutes.

Once in his own quarters, he extricated himself from the crown and stripped himself entirely, refreshing himself in cold water. Drying himself, he perfumed his body, and chose a long green silk skirt which reached down to his ankles, sitting low on the hips and split up the sides to almost the waist. He wore simple leather sandles, and attached a decorative band to the left foot. He walked over to the dresser then, picking up a brush, he began to comb through is extraordinarily long hair, leaving it completely loose.

This left only his most intimate piercing to see to. Opening his skirts, he inserted the mithril bead through the head of his penis.

Walking over to the side table, he took out a small flask of Miruvor and took as swig from it, that would boost his natural stamina and keep him going for a good while.

Just then, Llyniel entered his quarters, looking stunning in her purple gauze dress that revealed almost everything, and yet nothing at all. She looked beautiful, if not a little anxious. Legolas smiled reassuringly at her, and offered her his glass, which she accepted, gulping down the contents in one generous swig as she eyed the prince hungrily.

They were ready

...

As they approached the door, Llyniel took Legolas' arm and pulled him back.

"What if I do something wrong, my Lord? Tis not my first time in Carnal Delight, but these are high lords, I do not wish to leave the Greenwood in bad regard".

The prince smiled at her reassuringly. "You will not disappoint, sweet Llyn. Go with the tide and all will be well, enjoy the moment!"

She smiled, then nodded, stepping forward with the prince as he knocked on the door.

Glorfindel opened it and promptly stepped back, wide-eyed. Knowing better than to try and utter a word, he ushered them over to the fire and his companions, however, instead of taking seats on the sofas or plush armchairs, they knelt down on the floor.

Once there, Legolas introduced Llyniel and both received a goblet from Erestor, who had poured a generous amount of apple liquor into them.

"It is said to prolong the stamina, draw out the pleasure, so to speak", explained Erestor, taking sip from his own cup.

Llyniel smiled then, "my Lord does not need it, he will still be active at dawn, I assure you!" She blushed a little then, unsure as to whether she should have said that, looking to Legolas for reassurance, which he gave with a smile, as he promptly gulped down the entire contents of this glass.

There were a few chuckles, which turned into soft gasps as Legolas leaned over and softly kissed Llyniel. She deepened the kiss, holding to his arms for balance.

It was always the case with Carnal Delight, that with first-time partners, one had to find the way of breaking the ice, and Legolas favoured this tactic – he would perform with Llyn, he would take her – his companions would either watch and then continue when he had finished, or they would join in – he did not know them well enough to take a guess.

He held out his hands then in a gesture for her to go to him which she did, turning her back to his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and adjusting his own kneeling posture so that he fit snugly to Llyniel's backside, his bare muscled thighs on either side of her. He pushed the fabric of her gauzy dress down her shoulders, until it pooled at her waist, revealing her ample breasts to the three lords, who looked on avidly as the show continued.

Moving his ringed hands over her more avidly now, they kissed and bit, caressed and kneaded, until Legolas eased her down to the floor and half covered her, letting his hands roam further down her, to the very tips of her feet. Llyniel was alight, her hands avidly raking across his chest, his back, over his skirted backside, down his thighs – she wanted him so badly and told him so in but one simple expression on her face. Legolas caught it and was more than ready to oblige her, as he pushed his skirt to the side and penetrated her in one swift thrust. She gasped then, but was not the only one, for the three lords were at the brink, yet they could not see what they wanted to, as the green skirt was covering most of his lower body, save for his impressive legs. Legolas closed his eyes then, enjoying that first moment of bliss and the knowledge that he was being watched and coveted.

Setting a slow pace at first, he glided in and out of her, pushing himself in to the hilt and then back out, giving her extra pleasure from his piercing at the very tip of his cock. Before long, she could take no more, as Legolas set a strong hard rhythm, not taking his eyes from her the entire time. She finally cried out her bliss as Legolas let himself go and came inside her for long moments.

He rolled off her then, onto his back, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself, but when he opened them again, he found Elrond and Glorfindel sitting at either side of him, with Erestor kneeling at his feet. Glorfindel cupped his cheek and turned the prince's head towards him, but startled momentarily as he realized that Legolas' eyes had deepened to a dark amethyst color, the effect was nothing short of breath-taking – he smiled then as he moved in to kiss Legolas for the first time, which he did with such utter tenderness and complete ecstasy.

Elrond watched on as Glorfindel kissed this astonishing woodland warrior with amethyst eyes. He turned then to Erestor who had crept forward, taking the moss green cloth of the prince's skirt and laying it to the side, uncovering the prize beneath. He gasped then, although Elrond knew not why, until he leaned forward and espied the mithril bead that has given Llyniel such pleasure.

Oh yes, this was going to be a _very_ memorable night...


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER NOTES: This is the last chapter in this first instalment of The Protege. Thank you for reading, and to those of you who took the time to kindly review my efforts. There will be more of The Protege, coming soon.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the light curtains covering the vegetation from the exterior balcony, shining onto the sated faces of five elves, all still deep in reverie, a contented smile upon their perfect faces.

Legolas lay sprawled over the bed on his back, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, his golden hair spread out around him and over his chest. He was naked, save for the thin sheet that covered his sex. Next to him was Elrond, lying on one side, his left hand over the prince's left shoulder in an unconscious gesture of protection. Further down the massive bed was Erestor, who was spread out on his stomach, legs and mouth wide open in a posture that spoke of complete exhaustion. Finally, Llyniel was draped over Erestor's open legs, her hair obscuring her face, both arms stretched out behind her, as if she had been unable to break a fall.

Over them all, sat Glorfindel, leaning back against the intricately carved headboard. He had awoken not five minutes previously, and used the time to observe his lovers at rest – and such a well-earned one at that.

After that first coupling between Legolas and Llyniel, the fire had been ignited, and what ensued was round after steaming round of sex, sometimes all together, sometimes between two or three while the others rested and regained their strength. They took and were taken, watched and participated, they had fucked in the most imaginative of postures, Legolas proving himself to be particularly flexible, in spite of his muscular build.

And it had been glorious, blissful ecstasy, the likes of which he had _never_ experienced, in either of his two lives, and he wanted more, much more.

Legolas stirred then, unaware that Glorfindel watched him. A small red-breasted robin hopped onto the window sill then, and it was almost as if it was looking at the prince, for it cocked its head to the side and chirped softly.

Legolas smiled serenely, still tired from the evening's strenuous activity. He watched on as the robin bravely hopped further forward until it was perched on the side of the bed. Hop hop it continued until it jumped onto the prince's outstretched arm. A Quick succession of chirps and a few sharp trills, brought the prince fully out of his slumber.

Slowly focusing his green eyes on the chirping robin perched on his arm, he kept still and looked straight into the bird's shiny round eyes, smiling as he did so.

Another set of chirps and the bird hopped straight towards the prince's face, only to rub his beak against his rosy cheek, and promptly flutter away into the forest as if he had been naughty, yet couldn't wait to tell its tale.

Glorfindel was at a loss for words, as was Elrond who had awoken to witness the scene, hardly daring to breathe lest he frighten the creature away.

"I have never seen such a thing", said Elrond has he turned to Glorfindel, and then back to the bed-tussled prince.

Legolas slowly sat up and rested back against the headboard next to Glorfindel, smiling at his two alert lovers.

"Good morning to you both, all is well in fair Imladris my lords, and your guest is hungry."

"Good morning to you, prince. How do you feel this morning?" entoned Elrond, smiling fondly, although he had not forgotten what he saw, he had simply tucked it away for future consideration.

"A little tired, but nothing that cannot be fixed with breakfast from Gaerwyn's skilful hands".

"Ah well, I shall see to it anon", said Elrond, "but not before I steal a kiss from the most temptingly sensuous elf on Arda..." and with that he leant in and took the prince's lips in a slow and deep kiss, which was eagerly returned.

"And what of me then, the both of you would ignore me?" pouted Glorfindel only half seriously as he moved over to them, stealing his own kiss from Legolas, who leant into it, deepening it.

Finally parting, they greeted the last of the two lovers who were rubbing their eyes and looking around the room, surprised to see it full of light.

Legolas shuffled over to them, now revealing his naked form fully. He bent down and dropped a kiss to both Erestor and Llyniel's lips, bidding them a good morning in the best way he knew. Glorfindel however, was not capable of reining in his morning erection and shimmied up behind Legolas, pressing himself against his backside, groaning as he did so.

Legolas gasped into Erestor's mouth as he felt Glorfindel in all his morning glory.

"I would fuck you, Prince, senseless if I may", he ground out as he thrust his hips forward.

Elrond, Erestor and Llyniel caught eachother's eyes in complete understanding. Glorfindel wanted the prince for himself this morning, for of all of them, it seemed to them that he felt something that trespassed the boundaries of lust and sex, however venerable those emotions were. And so they lay together on the bed and touched themselves as they watched the two glorious warriors lose themselves in the moment, until they both came long and hard, staying locked together for long minutes after reaching their orgasms, Glorfindel's hands freely caressing the prince's muscled form, worshipping it, almost. Legolas turned then, and took Glorfindel's lips in the steamiest kiss they had yet seen, both opening their jaws wide and ravishing each other's mouths.

Uncoupling themselves, a flustered Elrond complained about what he and his companions were to do after _that _display, for he too, had his own morning glory, and he was sure that Erestor did, too.

Legolas chuckled then, and the sound was strangely out of character for one such as he, for it had sounded childlike, carefree and innocent, and Legolas was none of those.

Rising from the bed, he pulled Glorfindel with him and announced his intention to bath before breakfast, and that why didn't Glorfindel join him and leave the three flustered elves to their own urgent business.

...

The dining room was filling up slower than it normally did, for it had been announced that breakfast would be served late that day to allow extra time for the valley inhabitants to compose themselves before what would be the first day of the cultural exchanges.

Elladan and Elrohir dragged their feet to the dining table, taking up their customary seats. Their father had not arrived yet, but Celeborn and Galadriel had arrived a few moments before. Looking at his grandsons, Celeborn guffawed, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"My my, but you had a good time, did you not, young rascals!" he exclaimed.

"Is it _that_ obvious, grandfather? We have been in the bathroom for an hour before venturing down to breakfast!"

This time he guffawed even louder, slapping his knee for extra emphasis. Galadriel simply smiled serenely, she would have guffawed along with her husband, but that was not her role; that was not what people expected of her.

Legolas entered then, in a formal tunic, immaculately presented – no one would guess what he had been up to the night before, no one except the most sensitive of elves at the table, namely Mithrandir and Galadriel. They saw the sparkle in the slightly puffy eyes, a hint of tiredness beneath the pristine appearance. Nodding and bowing formally to Celeborn and Galadriel, he took his assigned chair, turning to Mithrandir and smiling fondly. The smile was returned, but with the hint of a question to it, a question that was understood and answered with a single nod.

The twins wondered how he did it, for he looked none the worse for wear, and they remembered well how much he had drunk, eaten and danced at the gala, he should be as badly off as the rest of the single and available elves, that is, with a thumping headache and a churning stomach.

He smiled as the twins regarded him, they were sluggish this morning and had not realized they were staring.

"I see your evening was both entertaining and memorable" he drawled, smiling as he did so."

The whole room erupted into hysterical laughter, the prince had said exactly what they were all thinking. Even Legolas laughed a little at their mortification of being the centre of sorry attention. Blushing, they bowed their heads and let the moment pass. As the laughter died down, Legolas felt somewhat guilty, but he just could not resist.

"I believe you look like the rest of us feel, and that is reason for joy, is it not? For what better than to indulge oneself in the good things in life, while they last, and while we can?"

The room fell silent as they pondered on the prince's words – wise words indeed.

The twins laughed then.

"We experienced the first of the cultural exchanges, I believe, for the woodland showed us how they celebrate the Spring Equinox in Rhovanion. Tis a balm to the spirit, but hard on the body, but of course you would know all about that. I must say though, you _do_ hide it well, prince."

"I have had much practice, Elladan"

And Celeborn guffawed again, he was enjoying himself immensely this morning and no doubt.

Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor entered then, bowing to the rulers of Lothlorien and nodding to Legolas. No sooner had they taken their seats, than the serving elves brought out the fare. There were bowls of steaming scrambled eggs, cooked tomatoes, toasted bread, milk, fruit, nuts, the list went on. However not everyone had the hearty appetite of Legolas Thranduilion, who, after waiting for his companions to serve themselves, which they did conservatively, piled his own plate high with eggs and toast. Poured himself a large glass of milk, and picked up an apple and a pear. Elrond watched as Legolas made his selection, somewhat shocked that he was going to eat all _that_. True they had burned quite a few calories during the evening, but with the amount of alcohol they had consumed, and the rich food, Elrond knew the logical result was to eat less, yet there was Legolas, as fresh as a spring lettuce!

Talk at the table was amiable, and was mostly related to last night's spectacular gala and the mid-morning event, the warrior's cultural exchange. Warriors from Imladris, Lorien and Greenwood would give a demonstration of their training routines, and discuss weaponry, style and tactic. It promised to be an enlightening day, one in which Melven was probably in for a big surprise...

Glorfindel was thinking along the same lines. He had enjoyed a relaxing bath with his friend, and was now trying to centre himself for the event. He did not want to make an oaf of himself on the first day, he was keen to impress and show the best that Imladris had to offer to this warrior culture of the Greenwood.

Breakfast came to an end, the meeting was set for two hours hence forth, time enough to return to their quarters, for Glorfindel and Legolas to organize their troops, and dress accordingly for the day.

However, before Legolas could leave, Elrond spoke to him.

"Prince Legolas, would you join me in the library? There are several issues I wish to broach with you before the day commences."

"Of course, my lord, lead the way, if you will."

And with that, Elrond, Glorfindel and Legolas left the room, headed for Celebrian's dead garden, while Erestor took over his Lord's many duties for the day. He knew he would be informed of that which was important. Galadriel was not pleased at not being invited to the private gathering, and so she suspected it was of a personal nature. She would bide her time, Elrond would inform her of anything important, she was sure of it.

Out in the gardens, the three friends sat at the base of a withered tree. Legolas was invaded once more by that overwhelming melancholy that had attacked him that first time in these gardens with Glorfindel. His heart ached, the pain was physical and it must have shown on his face, as Glorfindel took his arm worriedly.

"Are you well, Legolas?"

Elrond's head whipped round at that, he had been contemplating the state of the gardens.

"What is it, Legolas? Are you ill?"

His face had turned ashen and he had swayed to the side slightly, a lost expression on his sickly-pale features.

"Give me a moment." Was all he managed to grind out, for he had suddenly swooned and felt sick. He had sensed another's torment, he was sure of it. He felt a sharp pain in his chest now which accelerated his breathing, alarming his friends even more, his head hurt, and then his soul felt heavy, unclean and unstable. It passed then, leaving him sucking in his breath and shaking his head to rid himself of the terrible emotions that had assaulted him.

"I need", he said unsteadily, raising to his feet, "I need to move away from this sentinel..."

Elrond and Glorfindel took one arm each and steered the prince into the centre of the garden, seating themselves once more and waiting for Legolas to explain.

Elrond cupped his cheek, turning his head to face him, checking the prince's eyes. He was present and recuperating from whatever it had been that he had suffered.

"I am sorry for the scare, my friends. Tis only that the tree conveyed to me the suffering of another, I felt it", he said as he turned to Elrond, his face a scant few centimetres from that of the lord.

Elrond blanched then, for if he had felt but the slightest part of Celebrian's torment, the agony must have been considerable.

"Legolas. There have been various incidents during your four days with us so far, that lead me to believe you hide something from us, is this so?" asked Glorfindel. Elrond was still trying to digest what had happened under the tree.

Legolas looked sad then, but nodded once as he proceded to explain as much as he could.

"I shall answer you as best I can, although I would ask of you not to repeat my words unless you are sure of the company. I will also say that the time is not ripe for me to disclose the entirety of the tale, for some things are best witnessed than described."

Glorfindel held Legolas' gaze. Yes, he knew that Legolas had secrets, and this had just been confirmed by the prince's plea for discretion. Elrond of course, also knew, he had even suffered a vision of some intensity, although he did not yet know how to interpret what he saw.

"Of course, I know I speak for Glorfindel also. Now, where to begin, for I have so many questions, Legolas. Perhaps - perhaps you can tell me something about what seem to be abilities with nature, animals and fauna. Do you have green magic?" asked Elrond, leaning forward to hear the tale, but still keeping his healer's eyes on the prince.

"Well, you do start with the big ones, don't you?" teased Legolas, striving to lighten the mood. It worked as Glorfindel chuckled, but held the princes gaze in a silent plea to begin the telling.

"Very well, I will tell you my friends, that since I have had conscience of myself and the world, I could speak to both tree and beast. At first, my father did not believe me, and I suffered in silence through what I thought was some kind of madness, something I had observed other elflings did not suffer…that is until he was faced with the undeniable truth. He caught me staring into my pony's eyes, mine had turned a vivid green. My father had known of my eye-colour changes since my birth, for I could not control my emotions until I was two or three summers old. He had always wondered about it, but had never attributed it to any special ability, until then, that is.

My father bid me not speak of this to any, and I of course obeyed him. I was scared that perhaps someone would not take kindly to me, or that I would be mocked, or perhaps thought mad, and yet I always suspected that my father knew more of the matter than he was wont to disclose to me.

As I became older, and started my warrior training, my masters had noticed that I was always the first to sense danger or otherwise. Eventually, they approached my father, and he promptly informed them of the truth, and the need to use common sense when revealing that truth to others.

And so it has been for nigh on 2500 years or so."

With this, he turned his head and met Elrond's gaze.

Pulling himself together, the Balrog-slayer continued with a question of his own.

"To what extent can you communicate? With actual words, or is it more a deep sensing of emotion and intent?"

"Nay, tis a language of its own. I could not write down the words, for I would not know how, and yet there is structure and form to it. As I look at them, and establish contact, I can translate the language into any other, with inflexion, tenses, lexis, connotation, intonation and all else that constitutes a language."

Glorfindel was astounded. He had imagined the communication to be more of a sensory nature, and yet he was being told that trees and animals actually share a language, that they were capable of expressing abstract thought and conveying it.

"Can you heal them?" asked Elrond.

"Only plant life. I cannot heal animals."

Neither Elrond nor Glorfindel had sensed a lie, and indeed had suspected that the prince held special abilities. Everything about him screamed it to the heavens. And so Glorfindel smiled reassuringly, reaching his hand out to touch the prince's cheek.

"I believe you, my prince, we both do. I have no reason to doubt you, quite the contrary. For you are the single most beautiful being I have ever met, prince. This he whispered as he palmed and stroked the soft cheek."

Legolas' eyes misted just a little more as he offered a sheepish smile to his new friend and lover.

Eventually, Glorfindel moved his hand away and continued to ask.

"Is your special condition limited to natural ability, or has some of it been acquired? What I mean, Legolas, - has the Valar had a hand in your life? Have you been touched by them?"

Legolas knew that he could not avoid the question, but how to tell him? How to make them believe, in fact, should he even be trying? For the Valar had never told him to do so, and yet neither had they said the contrary. And more than this, had they not invested him publicly? Aye, he believed he had permission to speak, and yet he held back, he sensed that he should wait for some kind of sign, a catalyst of some kind.

"My friends, this is where my tale must end for the present. I will not keep secrets from you for longer than necessary, but the time is not right – trust me?"

"There is nothing to forgive, beautiful Legolas. We will do as you ask," said Elrond. And he meant it – yes he was frustrated at not getting the whole truth from Legolas – he desperately wanted to piece together the facts and relate them to his vision, but that would have to wait.

Legolas took a deep breath, and then smiled at both his friends, glad that some of the truth had been revealed.

"Well, I must attend to my duties with Erestor before joining you both on the training fields, until later! Said Elrond, as he rose, and left the gardens, bound for his library to meet with advisor.

"You weave a strange, magical song, Prince – you have me enthralled, and I would not forsake your friendship or your loving – I would take our relationship further than one Spring Equinox of Carnal Delight, if you will consent, of course?

"Oh yes, I do so willing consent, my warrior lover, for you have undone me somehow, I feel something for you which I cannot put into words, not yet, and so let us love each other, with or without our companions, for neither will I relinquish you, however promiscuous I or you may be "

And with that, they came together in a tender kiss that filled their hearts with joy, and sealed their bond of deep friendship.

"Come then, general, for we have troops to organize, and a display to give" said Legolas as he pulled Glorfindel up with him, "and a certain elf to teach a lesson to..."

THE END

Author's note: "The Protege: Training Day" is coming soon. My thanks for reading the tale, and for your kind comments.


End file.
